


The Island

by k506rl



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Assassins & Hitmen, Blind Character, Depression, Desert Island, Eventual Smut, I WILL WRITE SMUT. I WILL FORCE MYSELF. AND I WILL ENJOY IT., Kidnapping, M/M, Memory Loss, More tags to be added, Muteness, Mystery, Past Abuse, Philosophy, Smut, but it will be happy by the end i promise, seongjoong, seongjoong is the main ship!!!, they've all got ~backstories~, tw drinking but it's not underage or anything, tw mental health stuff, tw self harm, tw some violence, yeosang/jongho is a minor ship tbh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:40:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 64,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23840905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/k506rl/pseuds/k506rl
Summary: Eight men wake up in a mansion on an island, with no idea how they got there, where they are, or even what they were doing the night before. They must remember who they are to find a way out, but along the way, they may find that remembering is not always the most pleasant experience.
Relationships: Choi Jongho/Kang Yeosang, Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa
Comments: 201
Kudos: 251





	1. The Mansion

Hongjoong shifted slightly, struggling to open his eyes as he laid on the soft surface. As the bright sunlight from the window entered his eyes, he immediately shoved his face back into the pillow. That light was too bright, especially considering how much his head hurt. Had he been drinking last night? He couldn't remember. He didn't care enough to think clearly, and just worked on getting up slowly, still not opening his eyes. As he adjusted himself to the daylight and became more lucid, his mood went from mild annoyance at his headache to a stomach-sinking confusion. As he kept his lids peeled this time, he saw intricate wallpaper, marbled flooring and classical paintings hanging on the wall across from the bed he had been in.

This was not his room. This was not like any room he had ever entered in his life. Everything looked so... expensive. So grand. So beautiful. Even the view from the window – looking down a hill towards a beach – was luxurious. But this wasn't his home, and he had no idea where in the ass-crack of the Earth he was. His headache quickly became the least of his concerns as he turned again and again around the room. He didn't recognise anything. Did he have a one night stand with some rich guy on a drunken night out? Had he stupidly wasted a ton of his own money just to be in some fancy hotel room for the night? Or had he been kidnapped? Maybe this was all just a dream and he needed to slap himself awake...

He proceeded to try. It didn't work, and all he felt was a stinging sensation on his cheek.

He tapped all over his body, which was fully dressed in his usual day clothes, looking for his phone in his pocket. It wasn't there. He checked the drawers of the nightstands, the crevices of the desk and even looked behind the furniture. No phone anywhere.

With nothing else to do, and his heart beating fast, he decided to exit the room. Surely, he could just try to discreetly find a way out.

And so, without too much hesitation, he shoved open the door. As he entered the equally grand-looking hallway, he almost tip-toed, afraid of someone seeing him. It was a long hallway with many more doors. He didn't want to pry - if anyone caught him, he might be accused of stealing. He was hoping to find some sort of stairwell to lead downstairs and towards a front or back door of some kind. And that he did find.

He found an incredibly large stairway, a red carpet rolling down them. At the top of the stairs, where Hongjoong was, were two bird sculptures framing either side of a colossal canvas. On the canvas was painted a large, incredibly old looking tree. It was twisted and distorted, not like a typical tree you would see in the park. It seemed ominous, with eight branches sticking awkwardly out of it, yet it was surrounded by beautiful bright flowers and a sunny sky. Hongjoong only glanced at this painting before noticing something far more important - other people. He stood back, not knowing whether he could reveal himself or not, and tried to listen.

He couldn't hear much - they seemed to be talking quietly, but they were definitely not calm. From what Hongjoong could see from behind the bannisters were six people - all male, standing in a kind of circle. He couldn't see all their faces clearly, but they all seemed to be a mixture of worried and confused. The only words he could make out were "I don't know". Hongjoong tried to press his ears through the bannister to get a closer hearing spot, and in doing so took a step forward.

A loud creaking noise startled everyone below, and Hongjoong silently cursed himself. The step had caused the creaking noise, and now all 6 of the people below were staring right at him. It's funny how you don't notice someone in plain sight until something draws attention to them.

"Who are you?" One of the six called out - the one that Hongjoong could see had slightly cat-shaped eyes. Hongjoong put his hands up in the air, as if he was about to be shot, and got up from his crouching position on the floor.

"I-I'm uh, very lost." Hongjoong answered. He made his way down the stairs, lowering his arms as he did so. The six men all looked at each other in a pointed way, as if to say something Hongjoong was missing out on, before looking back at Hongjoong. "I'm sorry - I - where exactly is this?" Hongjoong said, trying his best to not seem like some kind of intruder. He figured that at least one of these men probably worked here, or lived here, or something.

He was met with a few moments of silence. He almost wondered if anyone had even heard his question until the tallest of the six opened his mouth to reply "We... don't know". Hongjoong frowned.

"What... do you mean?" He was met with another few moments of silence as the tallest seemed to try and think of the correct words to use.

"We all seem to have just, well, woken up in this building... and none of us knows how we got here, or where we are..." He looked down, frowning at the floor as he tried to process this himself.

"I- What?" Hongjoong said aloud, not really understanding himself. "This is a prank, right?" Hongjoong tried to smile humorously, but he knew his face was failing him. Even if this was some kind of prank, it had meant that someone had kidnapped him and taken him somewhere... which was not even mildly humorous.

"It could be." The man standing at the back of the crowd with dark hair and a cold look spoke up. A few of the others nodded, considering the possibility.

"If it is, this is some fucked up prank. Definitely illegal." The other tall guy with red hair said. Hongjoong was becoming more and more worried - were these people telling the truth? Had they all really just woken up here, just like Hongjoong? Or were some of them lying? Hongjoong looked at each person for a second each - trying to get a first impression. Who seemed trustworthy? That was a difficult call to make, as he had only just met them all.

"I need to get back home. I need to look after my mum." The tallest one, the first guy who spoke, said with a worried expression on his face. "She's ill." He admitted, although no one asked.

"Yeah, I also need to get out. I've got things to do too..." The fox-faced one piped in.

"Okay, um, let's find a way out? There's gotta be a door outside or something, right?" Hongjoong interrupted them - he had no intention of getting to know these people, and every intention to get out and resume his life. He thought for a second, realising he wasn't entirely sure what he would be going back to, but shrugged this thought off, figuring it was this headache that was making him forget things.

"Yeah, let's search. That door didn't open when I tried earlier." The cold-looking one said, pointing to the huge wooden doors at the front of this room - if anything, those would definitely be the main doors, and this was likely the lobby area. "But with a building this big, there must be more exits." Hongjoong was glad that this guy seemed to have some kind of plan.

And so, all seven of them walked together room by room on this bottom floor. There seemed to be an endless amount of rooms here - on this ground floor alone there were two dining rooms, three living rooms, a game room, some kind of party room, a bathroom and an office. Whoever owned this place was loaded.

And yet, none of those rooms had any door that seemed to lead to the outside. The only ways out that they could see were the windows, and those grand doors in the lobby.

"Let's just break one of the windows!" One of them said, and Hongjoong considered this idea.

"I am not sure if that's a good idea... at least not yet, when there's no clear danger yet." He said to everyone, most of whom looked at his quizzically. "Whoever owns this place must be... powerful. If they've gone through all this effort to... _kidnap_ us... I'm sure they will be angry if we damage their property. They may have lawyers to prosecute us, or worse..." Hongjoong's imagination was running wild with the different possibilities of what could happen to them.

"So we have to wait for there to be a real danger before we try to save ourselves? That's fucked." The red-haired guy said.

"Maybe we can find a key somewhere?" The fox-faced one said.

"Yeah, or maybe there are still more people around. You know, we don't know for sure that we're the only ones here." The cat-eyed one spoke, trying to be positive.

After some agreements, they all decided to split up and search the other floors.

"But first, uh, if we see something, should we have a call or something?" The tallest one suggested. "Or maybe we could just call each other's names?" Hongjoong thought for a moment and agreed. It wasn't like he had anything to lose at this point - anyone who had the capacity to kidnap him also likely knew his name, address and other personal details.

"Hongjoong." He was the first to reply. The tall one nodded and then said his name:

"Yunho."

"I'm Mingi." The red-haired one said.

"Uh, I'm Wooyoung." The fox-faced one said.

"San." The cat-eyed man followed.

"Seonghwa." The cold-looking one said rather softly.

When the last person hadn't replied, Hongjoong realised he hadn't heard the guy speak for this whole time. The last guy had a perfect face - like that of a sculpture, but Hongjoong had barely even noticed him. The guy seemed to tense under everyone's stare.

"..." The guy opened his mouth before closing it again. He seemed to be struggling with himself. "Y-Yeosang." The guy finally said, incredibly quietly, after a few more moments. Was this guy ok? Hongjoong figured he was probably just socially awkward, or maybe anxious.

With those introductions, they all split up to look for either a key, another way out, or another person.

-

They were all slowly making their way throughout the house, sweeping through each and every room. It was taking a very long time, considering there were four floors. Hongjoong was currently busy unpacking boxes full of toys in what seemed like a child’s play room on the third floor, in the hopes of finding anything of use. Yunho and Mingi had both decided to stick together, afraid of heading off alone, and were currently searching the drawers of the huge kitchen. Seonghwa was nowhere to be seen. Wooyoung had taken it upon himself to try and search for an electrical room – or a phone. Yeosang was currently walking down one of the many long hallways, opening every door and making sure there was no one else in them. He honestly wasn’t looking that hard – if someone was really trying to hide from them, he figured that they probably would resort to extreme measures if Yeosang tried to ruin that for them. They might attack him. And it’s not like Yeosang would be able to scream for help.

He wasn’t too sure why, but he just couldn’t bring himself to make a noise. Saying his own name in front of all those other guys was already difficult enough. No, if someone wanted to be seen, they would approach Yeosang, and he could show them with his face that he didn’t mean any harm. One thing he could remember was that as soon as someone saw his face, they would usually automatically trust and try to befriend him.

It was indeed worrying that Yeosang couldn’t remember that much – he could remember his family, his home… His dog. He could remember that several years ago he had eaten the most tasty kimbap of his life. But he couldn’t for the life of him remember what he was doing just a week ago, or who his friends were. It was concerning, but Yeosang told himself that as soon as he got out of this place, he would go straight to hospital, and make sure he was ok. For now, he needed to find a way to actually get out.

Yeosang closed the sixth door along this hallway, and he was reaching the end, where there was a right turn onto a perpendicular section of the hallway. He walked slowly, and as he did so, he felt like he heard a separate set of steps from his own. He stopped to listen more closely, and he could, indeed, hear someone walking. They were getting closer to that corner, and any second now, they would turn and see Yeosang.

That’s what Yeosang thought, until the walking stopped and there was silence. And then…

“Is someone there?” He heard a voice from around the corner. Yeosang didn’t reply, desperate not to speak. “Hello?” The voice seemed a bit more serious than the second before, as if sensing danger. “I- I’m not afraid of you. I will hurt you if you make me.” The male voice shouted, and Yeosang tensed up, staying still. Had the guy heard him walking before? Could he hear Yeosang’s breathing?

And suddenly, there were a few slow steps, a crashing noise, and a thump. Yeosang saw something metallic fall down, peeking out from the other side of the corner.

“Ugh…” He heard the sound of someone in pain. What the hell had just happened?

Yeosang walked forward, finally peeking around the corner to see someone who had clearly just landed flat on their ass. Next to them, some kind of armour-clad sculpture had been pushed over. Had this guy just walked into a statue after threatening someone?

As soon as Yeosang approached the guy, said man jolted around, his eyes jolting around, as if trying to find something to focus on. Yeosang took one more step before stopping and putting his hands up, as if to show he wasn’t going to attack. The guy didn’t seem to care, though.

“I told you, I- I will attack you if you try anything funny.” The guy had finally focused his eyes, but they weren’t exactly looking directly at Yeosang. They were just off – looking at the wall behind him. Yeosang frowned a little. Was this guy okay? He approached him slowly, reaching out to help him up. He left his hand in front of the guy’s face, ready for the guy to grab it and be pulled up. But the guy was simply looking straight through Yeosang’s hand, as if it wasn’t there. “I- Please say something, I … can’t see anything.” The man admitted, but still looked as guarded as before. Yeosang suddenly understood.

He sighed at himself - What was his issue? Why could he not physically allow himself to talk – even to someone who he had no other way of communicating with? He looked around noticing an open door just a few metres away. Yeosang, instead of replying, walked to the room to look inside, ignoring the confused noises the man on the floor was making. _Perhaps… Ah!_ There it was. A cane for walking. Exactly like what Yeosang had usually seen for blind people. This guy… must be just like all of them - he had woken up somewhere unknown, and was scared. Just like Yeosang. This guy wasn’t harmful.

Yeosang grabbed the cane and quickly jogged back to the guy, who was trying to get up. Yeosang held him steady, and the guy flinched a little under his touch. To show him that he also was not a threat, he gently passed the guy the cane. As soon as he realised what it was, he seemed to relax a little.

“Oh- thanks.” He said.

-

It was an hour or two later that everyone had gathered again in the lobby. The new guy that Yeosang had found – Jongho – was, indeed, in exactly the same position as the rest of them. They all sat on the floor in a circle, discussing everything they had found.

“There’s a basement near the kitchen… but uh- We were hoping to all go together…” Mingi said, scratching the back of his bashfully.

“What he’s missing out is that he’s too scared to go there alone.” Yunho jabbed.

“Hey, you were too scared to go there alone too!” Mingi retorted. They seemed to be getting along well, despite the circumstances.

“I didn’t find a key or anything, but there’s a library on the third floor with some code-locked desks. Maybe if we can figure out the code for them, we might find something useful.” Hongjoong interjected, still uninterested in wasting time with banter.

“I mean… it’s been a few hours, right? I feel like we’re in enough danger to break a window.” The guy called Wooyoung said. He seemed pretty hooked on the idea of just smashing windows. And to be honest, many of them were starting to agree.

“No.” Seonghwa interjected. “I already tried. The windows won’t break.” Seonghwa said, offering no explanation until everyone stared at him expectantly. He sighed before continuing. “I did it without telling you because I figured that if you guys didn’t know, whoever owns this place will only be able to press charges against me. And I personally don’t really care about something like that. I tried throwing a chair, it did nothing. I tried throwing a heavy brass sculpture, nothing. I tried that with several windows in different rooms, and on different stories, too. They won’t break.”

Everyone was a little shocked by that this guy had said, as if it was nothing to be worried about it. The windows were, what, break-proof?

“What the fuck.” Mingi rubbed his fingers against his temples. “What the fuck is happening.” He seemed to relieve his stress through swear words.

“Guys um. I… found something.” San chipped in, looking a little concerned. “I thought it was nothing, since they were notes thrown in the trash, but… Here.” San pulled three scrap pieces of paper out of his trouser pocket. Each one had some small handwritten notes on them.

_You want to get out, right?_

_Remember how you feel now._

_You must remember in order to understand._

Those were the notes written on each piece of paper.

“I’m not sure, but it feels like someone wrote these for us. I… I didn’t mention this before but honestly, I’ve forgotten… a lot. Like, I don’t even remember what I was doing yesterday.” San said as the others read the three notes.

Everyone was silent as they all looked at each other, as if to say, “yeah, me too.”

“What, you think… this person purposefully… what? Took our memories? Gave us amnesia? Is that even possible?” Yunho said, clearly unsettled by the idea.

“No, that’s not possible… I think.” Wooyoung said.

“You think.” Mingi repeated Wooyoungs words thoughtfully. Was is possible? Could some secret organisation have figured out how to extract memories?

“You know what, this is probably just a bad fucking dream.” Hongjoong tried to convince himself. “I’ll wake up eventually, remember what my job is and what my hobbies are, and forget this mess.”

If only it were that simple.

-

It was only a few hours later that they had all realised how hungry they were. They started to smell something delicious – and half of them thought they were hallucinating. However, when they followed the smell, it led to one of the dining rooms – and when they opened the door, they saw the long table filled with gourmet-style dishes. Roast chicken, pie, cake, diced fruit, and other delicious meals. They stared in both awe and horror.

Wooyoung wanted to scream in both frustration and terror. How the HELL had someone managed to get all of this here, without entering through the front door, and without any of them hearing? Was the food poisoned and – more importantly – why did it smell so damn good?

He was salivating.

“I-I’m hungry.” Jongho said. “Is it just me or do you smell food?” He said, and the others told him what they could see, and he was clearly just as dumbstruck as all of them.

“D-do you think it's poisoned?” Wooyoung spoke up, desperately hoping someone would reassure him that it wasn’t so he could stuff his face.

They all just stood in silence. Would anyone take the chance?

“-Why would someone poison the food? If they wanted to kill us, they could have done so in far better ways by now.” Seonghwa piped up, clearly also enticed by the food.

And that was all it took for all eight of them to tuck in. The food was delicious, although the atmosphere a little quiet. Wooyoung – although he couldn’t remember the details – felt like he was used to a much louder environment, with more talking, more activity and less feelings of imminent danger.

“So – uh – after this, should we try and figure out the code for those locked desks?” Hongjoong piped up, and Wooyoung was thankful. He couldn’t bear the silence anymore. “It’s… one of the only possibilities we seem to have right now.”

“Yeah, let’s try. But how?” Yunho said, much more energetic than before, now that he had eaten.

“Did anyone come across any weird symbols or codes? Or something?” Wooyoung suggested, already kind of knowing the answer to that. Everyone shook their heads.

“The library – it’s really big. Maybe, it’s a long shot, but – maybe one of those books has something inside?” Hongjoong said. None of the others had been to the library yet, so when they all got there after eating, their jaws dropped to the ground. Hongjoong had not been lying when he said it was big. It seemed to reach the skies – there was a glass ceiling through which they could now see the night sky. There were several layers connected by ladders that they would have to climb to reach all the books.

Wooyoung suddenly felt like this scene was familiar. He saw a vague image of a library, much more modern-looking that this one.

“Ah.” Wooyoung made a noise as the others were bracing themselves for the colossal task ahead of them. “I remembered something.” Wooyoung said, getting everyone’s direct attention. “I… think I’m studying at university right now. Yeah – Psychology! Shit! My exams… my finals! They’re just one month away!” Wooyoung was getting louder and louder in the usually silent library, excited with what he had suddenly managed to recall.

“This library helped you remember?” Seonghwa probed after a moment. Wooyoung nodded.

“Let’s look at all the books. Maybe they might trigger some memories for you guys too!” He said, remembering what he had been leaning about memory in class - .

The group seemed a little more motivated after this revelation, and got to work straight away.

-

No one had any more revelations in the library, but they were slowly starting to realise that it would take days to so much as flip through every single book in this library. And even then, they might miss something crucial. Who knows in what way the code was hidden, or if it was even hidden here at all.

In the meanwhile, Jongho was simply sitting there, feeling utterly useless. There had been a small section of braille materials, but Jongho had gotten through them incredibly quickly, being unable to read any kind of code. He sighed as he sat there, noting to himself about how even in such a large library, there was barely any material catering towards people like him.

He picked up the books, ready to place them on the shelves. At first, the others offered to help, but he quickly reassured them that he was blind, not incapable of putting books on shelves, for fuck sake. As he slid the books back one by one, he frowned as he noticed the sound each book made as it hit the back of the bookshelf.

“Hey, guys.” He called out, not knowing who was closest. He heard a few pairs of footsteps. He was already trying to memorise how each of them walked, so he might be able to tell who they were.

“What’s up?” He heard Yunho’s voice. The other pair of footsteps must have been Yeosang’s, since there was no voice.

“This bookcase. Listen.” Jongho slid another book back to hit the back of the shelf. This was met with silence.

“Uh… what am I supposed to be listening for?” Yunho asked, and Jongho sighed.

“It just… usually, bookshelves with backs on them are against a wall. But this sounds like there’s space behind it.” Jongho explained before making the noise again. He wasn’t sure if the others could hear what he could, since he had a particularly good sense of hearing.

“It… does? But there’s a wall behind the bookshelf.” Yunho said, but Jongho could hear that Yunho was already trying to find a way to move the bookshelf.

It seemed like Yeosang and Yunho were suddenly dragging the bookshelf along the carpet in order to get a look at what was behind.

“Oh, you’re right!” Yunho shouted, and Jongho could hear that the others were approaching after hearing the ruckus.

“What happ- Oh!” Jongho heard San say as others were also making noises of surprise.

“What? What’s there?” Jongho said, a little annoyed that these people were a lot less vocal than he was used to. He was so used to his family and friends telling him what was there.

“A window!” Mingi exclaimed. “But why?”

Jongho approached and touched the window. The paint around the hinges was peeling – and there was an odd damp smell. This crevice of the library definitely hadn’t been touched in years.

“Is there some writing or something?” Jongho suggested to the others, hoping that the passwords to the desks were written there as plain as day.

“No… there’s nothing.” Hongjoong said, Jongho dropping his shoulders in disappointment.

-

They hadn’t found anything else of interest for hours. All eight of them were becoming incredibly tired, their eyes drooping as they desperately tried to find the answers they were looking for.

Wooyoung was the first to break.

“Guys I think I’m gonna try and sleep.” Some of them gave him a mixture of worried and judgemental looks.

“You sure?” San asked, clearly worried.

“I’m knackered, San. We’ve been up for like 24 hours. The sun is rising, look.” Wooyoung pointed out of the window they had previously uncovered.

San looked out of the window, an odd look in his eye, as if he was deep in thought.

“Are you okay?” Wooyoung yawned, noticing the change in San’s mood.

“Uh-yeah.” San said, avoiding the topic and allowing Wooyoung to head to bed. Not an hour later and almost everyone had followed suit – with only two remaining – Hongjoong and Seonghwa.

Hongjoong knew in his bones that there must be something of use in this library. He couldn’t sleep – not until someone found something. In fact, in his exhausted state, he was even a little annoyed at the others for giving up so easily. How could anyone sleep peacefully in a house they had been kidnapped to?

“You should go to bed – I can stay up and look through the books.” Seonghwa said, having clearly noticed the bags under Hongjoong’s eyes.

“And why would I leave you to do that?” Hongjoong retorted. “You must be tired, too. We all want to get out as much as each other.”

“Hmm… I’m not sure about that.” Seonghwa replied, gesturing towards the empty library. That’s right. The others might not want to get out quite as desperately as Hongjoong… but why? He sighed. 

“Are they not worried? Someone could come and murder us in our sleep, they could poison our meals, they could be spying on us this very moment.” Hongjoong listed the possibilities.

“Stress affects people in different ways.” Seonghwa stated calmly. He was right, and Hongjoong knew it. The smaller man took a few deep breaths.

“I… sorry for being irritable, it’s just really stuffy in this place.”

“You’re tired, it’s to be expected.” Seonghwa said reassuringly. Hongjoong placed the book he was holding down, looking at the man properly for the first time. Now that it was just the two of them, Hongjoong finally noticed how incredibly breath-taking the other man was. His stomach lurched at the thought, and he quickly looked away from the others face. _Now is not the time to be crushing on someone_ , Hongjoong told himself.

“Hongjoong. Have we met before?” Seonghwa said out of nowhere. Hongjoong looked back up to Seonghwa’s face. He wasn’t sure but - was this man trying to flirt with him? In this situation? Nuh-uh. No way. That was insane.

“W-what the f-“ Hongjoong began to say, but was interrupted.

“I’m asking seriously. I feel like I’ve met you, but… I can’t remember.” Seonghwa explained himself, realising that what he had said sounded a bit shady. And Hongjoong wasn’t completely sure, but he thought he believed the taller man.

“I… don’t know. I don’t get that feeling.” He admitted. Seonghwa nodded.

“Maybe you just remind me of someone.” He got up to stretch. “I think… we should all head to bed.” Seonghwa said, offering his hand to help Hongjoong off the floor, from where he was sat in a pile of books.

“But…” Hongjoong started before he could feel a yawn coming. Seonghwa chuckled a little as the smaller man tried to supress the yawn. “O-okay.” Hongjoong finally decided, taking Seonghwa’s hand. “But just a couple of hours." 


	2. The Key

Hongjoong woke up to the smell of cooked fish. His nostrils were full with a smell that he usually wasn’t too fond of – he had never been a fan of seafood – but with his body running on sugar from only fruits and leaves, anything else would have smelt amazing.

He took his time to stretch before getting out of the tent, where several of the others already were. Jongho was sat on a log, his bare and somehow wet feet touching the grass below him. Yeosang was sat nearby, watching a bickering Mingi and Wooyoung cook what Hongjoong assumed was fish on the gas stove they had brought from the beach.

“Where did you find that?” Hongjoong asked, his mouth watering as he saw the fillet sizzle.

Everyone suddenly looked at Jongho.

“Ask him.” Yunho said, perhaps unable to explain even himself. Had Jongho found a food stash?

“I caught it in the lake.” Jongho said, as if that was the most obvious thing in the world.

“What the- how?” Hongjoong prodded for more, sitting down next to him while waiting patiently for the fish to be cooked.

“I asked Yeosang to bring me to where there were some fish so I could try. It wasn’t that difficult, to be honest.” He said nonchalantly. Hongjoong’s mouth hung open. This guy must be super human – he had heard of people catching fish with their bare hands, but he didn’t think it would be possible without any training. “It took almost an hour, but I just heard them splash and then grabbed one.”

Hongjoong looked pointedly at Yeosang, as if to say “What the fuck”. Yeosang silently sniggered at his reaction, and shrugged, clearly just accepting the youngest’s talent for catching fish.

A few minutes later, the fish had been cooked through and served to everyone, who were now all awake. The fish wasn’t seasoned, and it wasn’t evenly cooked because of the shoddy gas stove, but it was still great. They ate in silence before setting down their bowls on the grass.

“So… what’s the plan now, then?” San asked, and no one answered straight away.

That was right – they had no plan. For now, it seemed like they would be able to survive here – but for how long? Would the food supply out here last forever? Probably not. There was no way to contact the outside world, no viable escape route, and even if they wanted to, they wouldn’t be able to get back into that house.

“If anything… I think we need to find a way back into the house.” Hongjoong said. “We hadn’t finished searching the library, and we haven’t checked out the basement yet, either. There might be something we could use. Even if it’s just coordinates or a map of where the hell we are, we might be able to know which direction land is…” He said his thoughts aloud, and everyone listened. “Any suggestions?”

“Maybe we could build a ladder? We’ve got axes and trees!” Mingi said.

“We haven’t found any nails or saws though… it would be very difficult.” Hongjoong thought before rejecting this idea. He was certain they could find a way to do it, but for now there were more immediate things to do.

“Maybe we should search the island again. For cameras! Someone’s got to be watching us, right?” Wooyoung also piped up.

“That’s true… But what would we do with that information? Would it help us in any way?” Hongjoong sighed. Aside from gathering food to survive one more day, they didn’t have any good ideas.

“Let’s keep searching the island anyway. Maybe we’ll find a camera, or something even more useful. We can’t have seen every inch yesterday.” Seonghwa said and gave Hongjoong an encouraging smile.

“Yeah, that’s a good idea. I think Jongho – you can keep trying to catch fish for our meals. Yeosang, stay with him and you can search the area nearby, too. I will collect more plants and fruit for us, and the rest of you, please search the woods and the beach. Let’s search every single inch of this place. There might be something, whether that be a clue to tell us who brought us here, or something to help us remember more things.” He said, feeling ready for the day ahead. He hoped with all his might that they would find something.

And so, everyone went their separate ways again, agreeing to meet at this point again by dinner time.

-

San was the only one not doing exactly what Hongjoong had told him. Despite being told to search the woods and beach, he instead found himself back at the lake. It was a large mass of water, and while it was shallow at the edges, the middle was so deep that it looked almost black. San stood, staring, as if waiting for something to pop out. It was the same feeling he had experienced in the library after having seen the window. A feeling of dread. But this time, his memories were becoming clearer. There was shouting. Then the crashing of glass, and then blood. A lot of blood. Whose blood was it? His?

He squatted down, putting his finger in the water. It would be chilly if he got in, but not freezing. It was another sunny day, after all. He splashed his fingers around for a moment, contemplating. Should he ignore his urges to swim? He probably wouldn’t find anything… right? San got up to walk away and focus on the task at hand – but only found himself returning after a few seconds. Something was pulling him to that lake.

He quickly took his clothes off, for a few reasons: First of all, these were the only clothes he had right now, and if he got them wet or dirty that would suck. Secondly, if for some reason a monster came out from the lake and ate him, the others might see his clothes and be able to at least figure out what happened.

He dove in, as if into a swimming pool. Except, as expected, it was a lot colder than a normal swimming pool. His body tensed up straight away, but he held his breath and forced his head under the water. His eyes were closed, but that was helping. It was almost as if the images of the memory were becoming clearer and clearer as he got deeper, and when he closed his eyelids, it was like watching a movie (however confusing the plot was).

He saw his father’s face. It was as clear as day – the wrinkles around his eyes and the way his mouth moved were so precise. It took a moment before San looked at the full picture and saw that his father was very, very angry. Furious. He was shouting. He could hear the loud shouting, but not the words. San got the feeling that the exact words didn’t matter much, though. All he knew after he saw his father’s face was that he should be afraid. His heart was beating rapidly, but he forced himself to stay under the water, determined to remember.

How had he forgotten this? His father – always so, so furious at him. That’s right, furious because San had been the cause of his mother’s death. The glass shattering was his father, having one of his fits. He had punched his own hand through the window, and was bleeding as the glass settled on the floor. In this memory, San was sat in the corner, trying not to anger him further. He knew that doing so could lead to not just the window being broken. He had curled up into as tight a ball as possible, wanting to disappear from the world.

And suddenly, the scene changed. His hands were bound, that was the first thing he noticed. He was upside down, floating in water, and he couldn’t breathe. He tried to move his arms, to break free, but they were stuck. It felt like something metallic was holding his wrists together, and pulling him further and further down. He wasn’t sure where he was – maybe a pool, maybe the sea, or maybe this exact lake. He struggled against the constraints, but it was useless. His lungs were starting to fill with liquid.

He was dying.

San let out a gasping breath as he broke the surface of the lake, finally able to get air into his lungs. He must have been under for just a minute or so – but it felt like an eternity. He had remembered so much. There were so many questions racing through his head that he felt dizzy. As he made it back to land, he sat down to process what he had just seen.

He remembered the life he had – living with his unpredictable father, who seemed to hate him so very much. He remembered how he would often have to stitch up his father’s wounds, only to be told that he was the reason for his mother’s death. How could San have helped it, when he was just a new-born at the time his mother passed from childbirth? But no, he had always been told that it was his fault. And yet, he still couldn’t help but seek approval and love from the very man who despised him.

He remembered how he had most certainly been drowning. He remembered his lungs coughing as they inhaled water and his mind became hazy. The thing that stood out to him in this moment was how he felt. Part of him – the arms that were struggling against the restraints – wanted to live. But the other part of him – the part that caused his arms to eventually stop trying – wondered if this life would even be worth living.

But… what had happened next? He couldn’t remember that part at all. How had he gotten out? And how did he get there in the first place? He couldn’t remember that, either. Was it his dad that finally snapped and decided to murder his son? The idea didn’t seem impossible, but… something about that idea didn’t seem right to San. He wasn’t sure, even though his logic tried to tell him it must be so. He felt something was missing, but even more than that, he felt devastation. These past couple of days, he hadn’t even imagined such things. He felt as if he had a life he needed to go back to – but in those moments while he was drowning, he most certainly did not have an interest in going back. What was so different then that made him accept defeat? That’s right. He could remember then, and that’s why he didn’t want to go back. Yesterday, he had no idea, and he had every intention to return home. But now that he had experienced both the will to carry on and the feeling of not caring anymore? He wasn’t sure.

If he did return, would he have to go back there? If he decided to, would that home even still be there?

Even though he had just remembered so much, he felt as if he didn’t know anything anymore.

-

Seonghwa had been searching every nook and cranny in his path for the last few hours. He had taken a handful of berries in his pocket to tide him over until dinner time, and he was being thorough. He honestly had no real idea what he was looking for – but he was trying.

It was around the mid-afternoon when he reached a small clearing in the woods. As the trees became less dense, the small clearing was full of grass. The light shone down through the treetops to make the colourful flowers become even more saturated. But what caught his attention most was the tree in the middle of this clearing. That huge, dark and gnarly tree that the others had mentioned the night before – the tree from the picture.

Seonghwa stopped walking as he noticed it. It was truly colossal – if you were to fly above the island, this tree would reach higher than any of the others. It was also glaringly obvious how much it just didn’t seem to fit in with the rest of the scenery. That wasn’t so clear in the painting, which Seonghwa assumed may have been exaggerated for some artistic purpose. But no, the real tree was far more contrasting than the painting had managed to capture.

He had to stare for a few minutes, in order to come to terms with how surreal the tree seemed. He noted how he now understood how Wooyoung, Yeosang and San had seemed to reject the idea that this tree was just a pretty picture. It must have more importance than that.

Seonghwa approached the tree. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt a little nervous doing so, as if approaching a king. The roots jutted out of the ground at odd angles, and he had to watch his step to not fall over. As he approached, he could make out many hollows in the trees – the sort that you would expect to find an owl nesting inside. Some were near the ground, and others reached as high as you could see. The tree also had moss covering it – something you couldn’t quite make out from afar – showing its age. _This tree must be as old as the island itself_ , Seonghwa thought. _Maybe Hongjoong would be able to tell what species it is…_

Seonghwa sighed at the thought. He of course wondered about the others, but that man in particular was bothering him. Hongjoong remembering his interest in flowers and plants only made Seonghwa feel more strange than before. It was as if he were experiencing déjà vu. He felt it in his body that he had heard Hongjoong say those exact words about daffodils before – “ _It blooms in spring… after such a cold and sad season, that’s the first sign of colour and happiness you get_ ”. It felt so warm, so comforting, and… so confusing. They were such lovely words, so why were they making Seonghwa feel like he had something to feel guilty about? He had no idea.

The others had woken up in that home with vague memories, maybe of who their family were, or where they lived. Seonghwa, however, couldn’t remember anything aside from his own name and the feeling that he had definitely met Hongjoong. He couldn’t remember what he was like in school, what his interests were, or if he even had a home. Why was that? Why hadn’t he remembered anything yet, despite having such strong feelings about certain events? Why did he feel so much better around Hongjoong, and so worried when they were apart?

He frowned, trying to push the confused thoughts away as he reached forward. He was now at the base of the tree and was putting his hand into one of the hollows. It was dark, he couldn’t see inside, but he could feel. It was a little like this whole situation – they knew nothing but how they felt. They all wanted to get out of here.

He was half expecting there to be spiders, or a bird that would bite him inside. But instead, his hand met the back of the hollow, where there was more wood. He moved his hand around inside, seeing if there was anything of interest. Maybe a camera, or a microphone. And after a few moments, he did, indeed, feel something.

It was hard, but small and slim. Could this be something? He grabbed at it, and had to try a few times before he successfully got the object in his hands. The object had one smooth edge and one ragged edge. He didn’t know for sure, but in his mind he knew that something this shape couldn’t be a camera or a microphone. It could only be…

A key.

-

As it approached the late afternoon, everyone made their way back to their small camp. Jongho had managed to catch a few more fish, which Yeosang had already started cooking (he had taken a few mouthfuls before everyone had arrived, but what they didn’t know wouldn’t kill them). Hongjoong returned first with a basket full of more fruits and leaves, as well as a couple of mushrooms that he proceeded to cook. Yunho and Mingi, who had stuck together all day, came back next with nothing much to report – other than having seen some cute bunnies. Wooyoung returned with more tools that they had yet to bring from the beach, and San came back, completely dry from his earlier dive. He didn’t mention a thing – and although he was certainly a little quieter than before, no one really seemed to take much notice.

Seonghwa waited for them all to get there before telling them what he had found.

“Hurry up, Seonghwa has something to show us!” Wooyoung shouted at San, who was the last to arrive. Their dinners had all been served as they patiently waited for Seonghwa to share his discovery, expecting it to be just something small.

As he took the key out from his pocket without saying a word, everyone suddenly realised how important it could be. Yunho even jumped up from his seated position in surprise, almost spilling his fish and berry dish.

“Where did you find that?!” Wooyoung said in disbelief as everyone stared at the golden key.

“It was in that tree.” Seonghwa said, smiling at his discovery. “I haven’t tested it out anywhere yet.”

And with that statement, dinner was temporarily forgotten, only half eaten. They quickly discussed where the key may open, and proceeded to try the only lock they could access at that moment: The front door of the mansion. As they inserted the key into the lock, the atmosphere was tense. San held tightly onto Wooyoung, Jonho’s fists were clenched, and Mingi complained that he needed to go to the toilet soon. As Seonghwa delicately twisted the key, it effortlessly turned in the lock. There was a clicking noise. Before anyone even had a chance to think, Seonghwa was already pushing the huge wooden doors open, and they finally could go back in to the mansion.

-

The rest of the evening had been fairly chaotic. They had celebrated getting in with loud cheers and running around the lobby, burning up their last energy before going to collect their fish dinners from outside. They didn’t need to though, because as they entered the dining room to eat their prepared dinners, the table was already full of food, similar in magnitude to the feast they had found there on the first day.

Thoughts of searching the basement, reading books in the library and trying to find an escape were in the back of Hongjoong’s mind, but he supressed them. The last few days had been undoubtably rough for them, and they needed a break. Especially if there was no clear danger yet, and they may have all the time in the world to find ways to escape. _That’s right_ , Hongjoong thought, _let’s try and be care-free, just for tonight._

After dinner, they chatted for hours. Their bellies were full, and their glasses almost overflowing with their choices of drink – for Hongjoong, that was some aged wine that had already been placed on the table. He was tipsy, which was helping tremendously with forgetting about the situation they were in. He was having a good time. These seven people – he wasn’t sure if he had known them before, but it felt like he had. Almost as if they had been friends for years already. Mingi and Yunho clowned around, making everyone laugh, Wooyoung poked fun at everyone, and the rest of them brought a bit of sanity to the table. They had even heard Yeosang giggle – quietly but clearly – at the shenanigans. This atmosphere was warm. It was comfortable.

They headed off at what must have been past midnight – at this point, Hongjoong was fairly certain he had finished a whole bottle of wine by himself. The rushes of heat and heaviness through his body felt familiar, and he vaguely noted in his mind that he must have been a regular drinker before arriving here. He wasn’t too drunk – just pleasantly so. The type of drunk where the room spun a little, but as long as he had his hand against the wall, it would just feel like he was flying. More than that, his worries were absent from his mind, and he was thinking fondly of the soft bed he had woken up in days before.

Everyone said their goodbyes and headed off to what Hongjoong assumed were the rooms they had all woken up in those few days ago. Some of them were on different floors, Hongjoong being on just the 1st floor, right above where one of the dining rooms were. It seemed that both Wooyoung and Seonghwa were on the same floor as him. Not everyone had been drinking with Hongjoong – Jongho instead preferring juice over alcohol, and Yeosang preferring plain water – but San and Seonghwa were not like Jongho or Yeosang. They hadn’t hesitated to consume their fair share of alcohol, and the three of them were giggling while walking down the hallway to their rooms.

“See ya in the morning, guys.” San laughed as they passed his bedroom first. He pushed the door rather clumsily, and Hongjoong noted how much happier he seemed right now than when he had come back from exploring the island earlier. It was probably like himself – San drank to forget his worries.

Seonghwa followed Hongjoong down the hallway in silence now that San was no longer there. They reached Hongjoong’s room first, as Seonghwa said his room was all the way at the bottom of the hallway, and Hongjoong waved cutely to Seonghwa, as if to say good night, even though his heart was telling him that he wanted to spend the whole night just chatting with the taller man. But before he could turn around to open his door, Seonghwa spoke.

“Hongjoong,” He called, his voice a little raspy from the alcohol. Hongjoong looked at Seonghwa quizzically. “This is weird but,” Seonghwa continued, looking Hongjoong straight in the eyes yet again. There was something there – was it pain? Sadness? Or even happiness? Hongjoong didn’t know, but whatever emotion it was, it was intense. He took one step closer to Hongjoong, who was almost learning against the door. “Something about you.” He looked deeper inside of Hongjoong, as if searching his soul. Hongjoong’s heart was beating fast, and he didn’t quite know what to do with himself. Should he look back into Seonghwa’s eyes? Or should he look at something else? Or maybe his face?

“W-what?” Hongjoong said, his voice barely audible as he tried to not sound incredibly nervous.

“I can’t… I can’t remember anything. Nothing.” Seonghwa’s brows furrowed, and Hongjoong wanted nothing more than to get that frown off of the beautiful man’s face. “Except you. I remember you.” Seonghwa was getting closer and closer, that Hongjoong could almost feel his breath. Hongjoong was now leaning flat against the door, and in order to not feel like he was going to fall over from his drunken dizziness, his hand reflexively held on to Seonghwa’s shirt for support. Seonghwa, without realising, reflexively held on to Hongjoong’s other arm to help.

Hongjoong could barely concentrate on anything except Seonghwa’s lips. He had an overwhelming urge to lean in and touch their lips together.

Was it the alcohol? Maybe. Should he do it? Probably not. Was there a chance it could wipe the frown off of Seonghwa’s face? Possibly. And did he want to do it? Most certainly.

 _Fuck it,_ he thought.

Without thinking of the consequences, he leant in, feeling Seonghwa’s breath on his lips before they touched. It was soft, but Hongjoong was steadying himself against the taller man, determined to not fuck this kiss up. His eyes were closed, so he couldn’t see Seonghwa’s face, but if he could, he would see Seonghwa experience approximately 1 second of shock before he also slowly closed his eyes and leant into the kiss.

Seonghwa wasn’t thinking clearly, perhaps even less clearly than Hongjoong. All he could think about was how absolutely right this felt, and that he didn’t want it to stop for even a second. Even if he had to stay on this island forever, he would, just to keep doing this. Seonghwa placed one hand gently on Hongjoong’s cheek, the other on his hip, and leant in even closer. If Hongjoong’s heart was beating fast, Seonghwa’s was about to explode. There were so many emotions running through his veins – contentment, lust, happiness. But also sadness, guilt and shame. Why? Why was he feeling like this? How could someone make him feel so many emotions at once?

He pushed the negative feelings into the deepest crevices in his mind, wanting nothing more than to enjoy this moment. The positive feelings far outweighed the negative right now. So, Seonghwa deepened the kiss. Seonghwa licked Hongjoong’s lower lip, tasting the shorter man. Hongjoong gasped at the sensation, but quickly leaned back in to continue. Seonghwa soon broke the kiss, only to move to Hongjoong’s neck, kissing it, sucking a little. Hongjoong relaxed into the feeling, and at this point his hands had wondered into Seonghwa’s black hair, fingers combing through and grabbing the hair at the roots. It was slightly painful, but Seonghwa was living for it. It felt like ecstasy, and he wanted more. Their lips eventually met again, and they took turns leading, wher Seonghwa took it slow and lustfully, and then Hongjoong would nibble on Seonghwa’s lower lip, eliciting a soft grunt from the other.

Only after running out of breath did they pull away, breathing heavily, lids half closed.

“Seonghwa.” Hongjoong whispered, driving Seonghwa insane. How could someone just saying his name do this to him? They stood in silence, in each other’s arms for a minute or so, coming down from the high. Seonghwa wanted almost nothing more than to carry on, but the only thing he wanted even more than that was to make sure Hongjoong wanted it, too. He watched Hongjoong catch his breath.

“We… should talk about this when we’re sober.” Hongjoong finally said, looking Seonghwa in the eyes with nothing but fondness. There was no hidden message in that sentence – just a need to be fully aware of themselves if they were to take this further. Seonghwa nodded. He agreed – it would be so, so awkward if they woke up the next day and one of them regretted the whole ordeal. He knew he wouldn’t in the slightest, but he also wanted to make sure Hongjoong didn’t, either.

“Mm.” Seonghwa made the noise as they slowly parted from each other. Hongjoong’s hand still hesitated to let go of Seonghwa’s shirt, but eventually, it flopped back down to his side.

“Good night.” Seonghwa said, still a little out of breath.

“G’night, Seonghwa.” Hongjoong gave him the most precious smile, his cheeks flushed pink as he opened his door and headed into his room. Seonghwa stood there for a few more moments, gathering himself before going to his own room, and falling sound asleep, thinking only of those kisses, without a worry in the world.

And that was when both of them started to remember. As they both dreamt of those moments, they remembered that very similar moments had, indeed, happened before. They had kissed. They had held each other. They had laughed together, loved each other, and done so much more. Hongjoong saw Seonghwa’s smile, and Seonghwa felt Hongjoong’s embrace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sometimes i write 10k words in 1 day, and sometimes i take 3 days to write 4k words, but i hope you are liking the developments in this chapter?
> 
> thank you again to Majda and luzestelar for the lovely comments ily <3


	3. The Feast

That night, when everyone had gone to sleep, Hongjoong and Seonghwa were not the only ones who spent a little more time with each other.

As everyone had gone their separate ways, Jongho asked Yeosang to show him the way back to his room. Jongho hadn’t been in this house long enough to know the layout, and appreciated the help. He could have asked someone else like Yunho or Mingi, who probably would have chatted with him on the way to the room, but something about Yeosang’s presence was comforting to the younger. And so, they walked in silence down the hallway and towards Jongho’s room.

But when they reached the room, that wasn’t the end of it. Honestly, Jongho still felt energetic, despite having such an exhausting day. It had been exciting, catching fish, unlocking doors and having fun with his new friends. He sighed before admitting to Yeosang, “I’m really not tired yet.”

Yeosang didn’t reply, but he heard a shift, as if Yeosang was moving. He could only assume it was a nod in agreement.

“Wanna hang out a bit longer?” Jongho asked, although to be honest he had no idea what they would do together. It wasn’t like Yeosang could communicate with him, right? What would they do – sit in silence? Either way, Yeosang followed Jongho into his room. It wasn’t difficult navigating the room – it was large, but the huge bed was right in the middle.

“I guess I haven’t really explored this room yet. Is there anything interesting?” Jongho asked. The others had described their rooms earlier, and all seemed a little different from one another’s. For example, Hongjoong said his room was intricately decorated with classical paintings. Yunho’s room, on the other hand, while still grand, was pretty minimal, with no artwork on the walls, but several photographs of his family. San’s room apparently had stuffed bears laid on the bed, and Wooyoung said his room had a huge desk in it.

Jongho could hear Yeosang walk around his room, obviously exploring. Jongho could definitely do that himself, but it would certainly be quicker for Yeosang to notice anything interesting. After a few moments, Yeosang seemed to have found something, as he picked an object up that seemed to make vibrating noises, as if hollow inside.

Jongho suddenly felt a pair of slim fingers touch his hand, and guide his hand forward to something solid. It was wooden, but polished, and smooth.

“A… guitar?” Jongho said as Yeosang finished passing him the instrument. Jongho held it naturally, his left hand already forming a chord. “Ah!” He exclaimed, memories suddenly coming back to him. “I-I sing! I make music!” Jongho said, shocked that he had suddenly remembered. How could he have forgotten? This was his passion – what he was dedicating his life to!

Moments passed, Yeosang giving no clear indication that he had even heard Jongho. The younger man was fiddling around with the guitar, tuning it. His muscle memories were coming back. What were those lyrics he had just written…?

If Jongho had been able to see, he would have noticed the shift in Yeosang’s face from curious, to happy, to deep in thought. He was certainly happy that Jongho had remembered something – but he also felt that this was important to himself, too. Why was that? It was Jongho’s moment. But why did Yeosang feel like he needed Jongho to do something more right now?

Jongho felt a tapping on his arm, and suddenly remembered that Yeosang was there. He didn’t hear anything at first, and could only imagine that Yeosang was feeling frustrated in not being able to say what he wanted.

Except, he did say something.

“Please… sing.” Yeosang said, again only a whisper, but it was as clear as day. Jongho hadn’t heard his voice even once yet, and it was a little shocking to hear such a lovely tone from someone he had expected to sound, well, less lovely. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but Yeosang’s voice was, for lack of a better word, profound.

“You want me to sing?” He asked, and got no reply, but knew the answer. He had just made it as clear as day what he wanted. Jongho coughed, readying himself for a minute as the memories of his songs came back to him. Even though he hadn’t even known he could sing five minutes ago, he felt as if he was about to recite a song he had sung a million times.

He strummed the basic chords to go with his song. His voice was the main focus, as it was in most of his songs, along with the lyrics. That’s right – he had always made sure his lyrics were as perfect as possible. He needed every single syllable to have meaning. Sometimes those words were made on his own, sometimes it was with the help of others, but the goal was always the same: to help others through music. Whether that be to encourage others to follow their dreams, or to reassure them that the world wasn’t a terrible place, each song oozed positivity and comfort.

As Jongho sang, the notes drifted into Yeosang’s mind melodically, like a key in a lock. His memories didn’t come back in an instant like Jongho’s had, but more slowly, like a camera focusing on something far away. Yeosang had heard this tune before, heard this voice before. He had listened obsessively to this exact voice that had comforted him so many times. This exact song had brought him strength in times of sadness and frustration. What had he been so upset about to need these songs? He couldn’t remember that detail – only that this song had helped to calm him down, so many times.

He also remembered sitting in a car while listening to a recording of this song. Was he in the front seat? …No, he was in the back. Someone else was driving in front. He was jittery with excitement. Why? Why was he so excited? That’s right. He was going to a concert. It was the day of a concert that he had been looking forward to for almost a year. It was at a small venue, but all the seats had apparently sold out, and Jongho would be singing live, singing Yeosang’s favourite songs, from his heart, to all the people in the audience.

But there was something wrong. As Jongho was reaching the climax of the song, Yeosang didn’t remember actually attending the concert. No… something else had happened. He didn’t remember a lot, but he did remember being suddenly flung around in his seat, a screeching noise, and feeling his stomach flip. All he saw before blacking out was that the car was no longer on the road, and was heads straight towards a building.

What happened after that? The only other thing Yeosang could remember was waking up in this mansion.

Jongho had finished his song, and was breathing slightly heavier than before, having exerted himself to perform well. He waited, hoping for some kind of response from Yeosang. He didn’t want to feel full of himself but… maybe a clap? Or just a pat on the back? But instead, he was met with silence.

“Uh, you didn’t like it?” Jongho asked, a little shy.

Yeosang was frowning, looking at the floor. How could he tell Jongho about all of this if he couldn’t speak? This was important. He had a connection to Jongho – even if Jongho had never met him, he knew the younger man. Maybe he could help Yeosang to remember more details, and vice versa for Jongho.

Yeosang coughed, startling Jongho a little. He whispered, saying each word slowly and clearly. He could feel from the stiffness of his throat that he hadn’t spoken more than a sentence in months – perhaps even years. Did this have something to do with why he felt so frustrated so often? He could see how that could be the case… but he wasn’t sure.

“I… I’ve heard your voice before.” He said, and Jongho didn’t reply for a few moments, taking in the fact that Yeosang was speaking – really speaking, not just because the others were putting him on the spot, but because he really wanted to.

“R-really?” Jongho said. “It’s an original song though…” He said, considering the possibility that Yeosang may be confusing him with another singer. It’s not like he was incredibly well known, only popular within a small crowd.

“No. I listen to you. A lot. I was… going to your concert.” He said, his voice straining and heart beating nervously, but pushing through none the less.

“You went to my concert?” Jongho said, still a little shocked that someone in this crazy place had actually heard him before.

“No. I didn’t get there. Something happened.” Yeosang explained, and Jongho wanted to ask what, exactly, had happened, but knew that if he hadn’t already said, then he likely couldn’t remember for sure yet.

Jongho thought about holding his concerts – he had only done a few before, all small crowds in tiny venues. It was enough to live by, and he enjoyed it more than anything else he had experienced. Singing to the crowd and hearing people sing back… he smelt the sweat of the audience and felt the vibrations through his body as the speakers boomed loudly. He suddenly remembered the events from the last concert he had done – this one was in a larger venue than any he had been in before, and it had been full of at least 500 people, or so Jongho’s manager had told him.

The concert had gone well. He heard the crowd cheer, and he felt a feeling of fullness, as if he wanted to do this every day until he died. He had sadly left the stage, and the night had only gone downhill from there. Jongho was slowly remembering the details – much like Yeosang had just moments before – of the last memory he had before waking up on this island. He removed his makeup himself, before being told that his car had arrived to take him to his hotel. That journey to that car would be the last memory.

“You just smudged your makeup, it’s all over your face.” His manager tutted as he saw the man’s face. Jongho was embarrassed, usually having no issue with removing his makeup. Perhaps the stylist had used a different brand today.

His manager grabbed some makeup-removing wipes from the table in the dressing room and proceeded to roughly wipe Jongho’s face.

“Honestly, it’s like taking care of a child.” The manager laughed as he said it, clearly not meaning any harm by it, but for some reason it had really affected Jongho. His face was being held by the manager, who must have been looking at him like a child. But he wasn’t a child. He was an adult, and he had been working so, so hard to prove himself as more than capable. Despite his blindness, he had learnt to navigate the stage as if he commanded the crowd, he had learnt to write music without the use of visual means, and he had grown a significant fanbase that loved him for his music, not because they pitied him or anything of the sort.

The Jongho on the island was trying to remember why this particular comment had made him so upset. In truth, it wasn’t just that comment, but the fact that similar things had been said to him a million times before. The patronising instructions given by his manager, fellow musicians treating him as if he didn’t know as much about music as them, and even his own parents suggesting time and time again that this life wasn’t suitable for him, and he should stick to a more stable lifestyle, because “it’s going to be too difficult for people like you”.

He hadn’t replied to the manager, instead knowing that saying something would only make the manager defensive. Instead, he stayed silent and waited for the manager to finish removing his makeup. When that was over, they finally headed out of the building and towards the car.

The stage and dressing room had all been on the 2nd floor, meaning Jongho would have to walk down some stairs to get to the car. As expected, his manager had held on to Jongho as they approached the stairs. Jongho’s blood was starting to boil a little. He had walked down thousands of flights of stairs in his life just fine – and he could walk down this one, too.

“I’m fine.” Jongho said, clearly showing in his voice that he meant it. His manager let go of Jongho, knowing full well himself that he had seen Jongho walk down many flights of stairs on his own. And so, Jongho started to walk down on his own. He took one step, two, and three… but the stairs were uneven. Some of the stairs were further down or slimmer than others, something which neither Jongho nor the manager had noticed before. Jongho’s left foot missed one step, catching on the edge, and he fell. He could feel wind against his face as his knees hit the steps below, and he spun around. He felt each of his limbs hitting concrete, and the steps never seemed to end.

He wasn’t even sure if he had reached the bottom. He must have blacked out before then, because all he can remember after this point is waking up on this very bed that he was holding his guitar on, now sitting with Yeosang.

“I… just remembered something.” Jongho finally said, and figured Yeosang was listening intently. “I just finished a concert… and I fell. And then I woke up here.” Jongho said, frowning just as Yeosang had a few minutes ago. “I was annoyed at my manager, and I slipped down some stairs, and before I hit the ground, I woke up here.”

They both sat in silence, the cogs in their brains turning. Even though they were remembering such valuable information, those facts were just making everything more confusing. But… the both of them did have one idea. It was a huge idea, one that didn’t make much logical sense, and it was almost painful to say aloud… But it needed to be said.

“Did we… die?” Yeosang said, choking slightly. Jongho was shocked the older man could say such a thing, but didn’t immediately deny the possibility.

“I can… feel. If I pinch myself, I feel the pain. I feel very much alive.” Jongho said, pinching himself several times, and wincing every time. “But even more than feeling like it can’t be true… I don’t want to believe that.” Jongho exclaimed with determination. That was right – he still had so much to prove, despite having to struggle against the world to get there. He had to sing for others, and help them with his voice and words. He felt it in his soul that his life wasn’t over yet. “I’m still alive.” He said with conviction, and Yeosang understood how the younger man felt.

Despite understanding though, he wasn’t so sure himself. What he was sure of was that they had to help everyone remember, and see if they could find any more important details.

-

Seonghwa was woken from his pleasant dreams by a knocking on his door. He stirred, not wanting to move, and almost fell asleep again before hearing Mingi call his name.

“Hwa!” He called the nickname, helping Seonghwa to wake up in a little surprise.

“Mm?” He answered, still unwilling to finish his slumber.

“Breakfast time! Yunho is refusing to eat until everyone comes down!” He heard a few more loud knocks before he heard Mingi run off down the hallway, probably to go and wake every one else up. Seonghwa sighed. Why couldn’t they just eat? Yunho really seemed like he needed to be with people at all times. But Seonghwa had just been dreaming such nice dreams…

No. They weren’t dreams, they were memories. Real things that happened.

His stomach did a small flip as he remembered what had happened last night, and he remembered that he and Hongjoong had much more of a connection than either of them had anticipated. That thought helped Seonghwa to push himself out of bed, and get changed into his day clothes.

He looked into the mirror as he put his clear shirt on. As he buttoned it up, each closed button covered up one more scar on his torso. One round bump on his hip, another horizontal strip on the left side of his ribcage, and the biggest scar: a crater-like circle on his shoulder. He had purposefully tried to ignore them for the last few days, figuring that he would remember once he got to safety, but now that it seemed they had no way of escaping, he finally let himself wonder: Where did these scars come from? He couldn’t remember a thing.

He sighed before finishing his final shirt button and heading out of the room, ready to face the day head-on. As he left and looked down the hallway, he saw another figure, already waiting for him. Hongjoong was leaning against his own door, picking at his nails. Seonghwa smiled at the sight, his heart forgetting what he couldn’t remember. He quickly jogged up to Hongjoong.

“Were you waiting?” Seonghwa asked, smirking. Hongjoong slapped his arm, but didn’t deny the fact. This only made Seonghwa smile more. “Well, good morning to you too.”

“Let’s go eat.” Hongjoong didn’t look Seonghwa in the eye, instead choosing to blush at the floor. They walked towards the dining room in a peaceful, happy silence, just glad to be in each other’s presence.

As they reached the dining hall, the others were all already there. Mingi, Yunho and Wooyoung were being as loud as usual while they fought over who was the most handsome or something stupid like that, with San cheering all of them on. Jongho and Yeosang were sat together quietly, and the two oldest joined them.

“Let’s eat!!” Yunho exclaimed as they were all now at the table. They all dug in, eating yet another delicious meal. Hongjoong ate, but inspected each piece of food before he put it in his mouth. It would be an understatement to say that he was still suspicious. In fact, this was one of the things most bothering him – They hadn’t heard a thing, hadn’t seen another soul, and the kitchen still seemed completely unused. So how did this food get here, who cooked it, where were they getting the food from, and how did they do all of this without being seen at all?

“I’ve got a few ideas about things we should do today.” Hongjoong spoke up as everyone was nearly finishing their meals. Everyone listened, the chatter dying down as they awaited their orders. “First of all, we should carry on searching the library. Since we’ve got so much time, we can make sure to read each book in detail. It might take a year, but who knows how long we’re going to be here.” He said, and some of the others seemed to look away from him, clearly not wanting that task given to them. “Secondly, the basement. Some of us should go check, and report back.” They nodded. “And last of all, and this is quite tedious, we should have people on guard in each dining room.” He said, and some of them looked at Hongjoong, awaiting an explanation. “Food appears in one of the dining rooms twice a day. Someone must be putting the food here, and they are doing so while we are not in the room. Since we can’t predict which dining room they will put the food in, there should be at least one person in each room.” He said.

“So people have to wait in the room all day, just _sitting_ there?” Mingi asked, the idea clearly boring him to death already.

“Like I said… tedious. I don’t mind volunteering though.” Hongjoong replied, willing to take the most boring job.

“I’m not sure… I think we need you in the library.” Wooyoung said. “Even though I go to university… I’m pretty sure I hate reading.” He explained when Hongjoong raised his eyebrows.

“Okay… Well then, since you two were too scared to go in the basement, Mingi and Yunho, can you take guard?” Hongjoong said, and the two men somewhat unwillingly nodded their heads. “Any other volunteer for the third dining room?” He asked.

“I don’t mind, I think I can keep myself entertained.” San said, and that was decided.

“Jongho, Yeosang and Wooyoung – all three of you go and check out the basement. Report back to everyone when you’ve seen what’s there. We can all discuss it together at dinner time… if that food ever actually gets here.” Hongjoong continued. “Seonghwa… come to the library with me.” Hongjoong said, not looking Seonghwa in the eyes, but he somehow knew that the taller man wouldn’t have a problem with that.

“Before we leave, I have a few things to say…” Jongho said hesitantly. Everyone turned their heads to pay attention. “Yeosang and I… remembered some things last night. I’m not sure if we’re all remembered things so far, but we thought it might be good… to share the things we remember.” Jongho continued, and Yeosang nodded next to the youngest.

“Actually… We remembered a little last night, too.” Seonghwa said, looking to Hongjoong for permission to continue, who nodded.

“Me too! I remembered just a bit.” Mingi exclaimed. “It’s not much but… I remember that I spend a hell of a lot of time using my computer.” He said, and everyone nodded, happy that he was starting to remember some aspects of his life.

“Hongjoong and I, uh…” Seonghwa sat awkwardly, not knowing who to look at. Hongjoong nudged his leg under the table, and gave him a look of comfort. “Turns out we knew each other. We were in some kind of… relationship.” He said. “I don’t remember many details… just that fact.” He admitted.

“Oh, that’s lovely!” Yunho clapped his hands in joy at the idea. “I hope I have a partner… I can’t really remember anything yet, other than my family.”

“What about you, Jongho and Yeosang?” Hongjoong asked.

“Uh… turns out Yeosang kind of knew me, too. We weren’t in a relationship, but he listened to my music…” Jongho said.

“Your music?” Wooyoung asked.

“Yeah… I sing.” Jongho replied. “But I don’t think that’s the most important part. Both of us… remember things happening. Like, scary things, I guess?” Jongho continued. The others had no idea how Yeosang had communicated this information to Jongho – perhaps he had finally started to talk. He wasn’t speaking a word right now, however. “Yeosang didn’t tell me the details for himself… but I remember falling down the stairs, and that’s the last thing that happened before I got here.”

The only one who hadn’t spoken yet, San, tensed a little in his seat. No one noticed, but he frowned and thought about how he had blacked out, drowning underwater, before waking up here. He hadn’t told anyone, and he didn’t plan on it either. Something about telling them felt… dangerous.

“That’s scary. Maybe you will remember what happened afterwards soon?” Wooyoung suggested, and Jongho hummed.

“I don’t think so… I really think that I came here, straight after that incident. I don’t know if any of you remember similar things… that’s why I was hoping, if we remember anything, we could share it with the group?” Jongho asked. Everyone nodded in consent, except for San.

-

Everyone had soon split up to carry out their tasks for the day. Mingi, Yunho and San were trying their best not to die of boredom while they waited for literally anything to happen in the three separate dining rooms. _Damn this house for being so big, why did it need three?!_ Meanwhile, Wooyoung, Yeosang and Jongho had found that at the bottom of the stairs to the basement was a locked door. After reporting to Hongjoong, they were then given instructions to use the tools from outside to try their best to break down the door. It was metallic, and stuck on tight, so it would certainly take a while.

Seonghwa and Hongjoong simultaneously started their raid of the library. They both started by looking in the fiction section.

“Hongjoong?” Seonghwa asked quietly after an hour or so of reading quietly, not having said a word to each other.

“Yeah?” The smaller man asked, ripping his eyes away from his book about a secret and magical garden.

“What… did you remember last night, exactly?” He asked, standing up from his chair to come closer. Hongjoong blushed a little as he recalled those memories.

“I… Uh, like you said… we have some kind of relationship.” He said, not sure if he should go into too much detail.

“Mm. Me too.” Seonghwa hummed, sitting down next to where Hongjoong was on the floor. “I also remember… you saying to me that thing about daffodils. About how it comes out in spring and stuff…” Seonghwa started to speak. “I’m not sure but… I’m pretty sure that was one of the first times we met. And that was definitely when I, uh… started to like you.”

“I… didn’t remember that before, but now that you mentioned it, I do.” Hongjoong said. “It was… at a florist shop right? I think I worked there?” Hongjoong said. The more they spoke, the more was coming back to them.

“Yeah… Everything is still so blurry but, that phrase… I think it helped me.” Seonghwa said, not so much towards Hongjoong, but just saying his thoughts aloud.

While they continued talking about some details they had each recalled, they got closer on the floor, and more relaxed. Hongjoong had placed his book to the side, fully invested in the conversation. They chatted about various things they remembered about each other, for example the time they camped in the woods together, or the time Seonghwa cooked a delicious bulgogi dish for the two of them.

“But… we’re still forgetting a lot.” Hongjoong eventually pointed out. “Like, I feel like there’s a lot missing. How did we even get together in the first place?” Seonghwa hummed, trying and failing to remember himself.

“I don’t remember either… And unlike you, I don’t even remember what job I had.” Seonghwa said. “I said it yesterday, but I meant it when I said literally the only thing I remember is you.” Seonghwa intertwined their fingers together softly. Hongjoong’s hands were cold, so he took them in his own hands to warm them.

“We’ll get there. Everyone seems to be slowly remembering little bits about their past.” Hongjoong tried to comfort Seonghwa. “We’ll work out yours together.” He smiled.

“I just… can’t help but feel worried.”

“About what? Hongjoong enquired.

“I get the feeling I won’t like what I remember.” Seonghwa said. Based on his scars, and the feelings of unexplainable guilt he had towards Hongjoong, there was bound to be something bad there.

“What makes you say that?” Hongjoong asked, and Seonghwa hesitated to reply. The only thing that made him admit the truth was the fact that the only thing he knew for sure was that he could never lie to this man.

“A few things… Firstly, it’s about you again. But… while I remember all of these things… I feel scared, too. Guilty, even. Scared that something will happen to you, and guilty that it might be my fault. That’s not normal, right?” Seonghwa held onto Hongjoong’s hands tight, not wanting to let go.

“Do you think… maybe we had a fight?” Hongjoong suggested. It could be possible. Maybe they had a bad fight, started by Seonghwa. Seonghwa hummed, not fully rejecting the idea, but not accepting it in whole either. “If that is the case… We can work through it. I don’t remember what it was but… I’m sure we can get over it.” Hongjoong said with conviction.

Seonghwa nodded, but his feelings honestly weren’t calmed too much. He had the gut feeling that it wasn’t as simple as that.

“But secondly… I don’t know if you remember this, but uh…” Seonghwa started, a little nervous. _He_ had certainly remembered that they had had sex, but he wasn’t sure if Hongjoong remembered at all. “Do you remember what… my body is like?” Seonghwa said, a little embarrassed. On one hand, he had known Hongjoong for a long time, but on the other hand, it simultaneously felt like he had met the man for the first time only a few days ago.

“Huh? N-no?” Hongjoong said, clearly also shy. “I remember we’ve… you know… but I don’t really remember many details.” He admitted, which helped Seonghwa to relax slightly. At least he didn’t have to tell Hongjoong that fact.

“Uh, well there’s… lots of marks on my body, and I’ve got no idea how I got them. So, I guess that has made me a bit worried, too.” Seonghwa explained. Hongjoong turned to look at the older man.

“Marks?” He asked. Was that worry in his eyes? “Like, scars?” His brows were furrowed and he grabbed on to Seonghwa’s hands a little tighter than before.

“Yeah…” Seonghwa confirmed. “Does that ring a bell?”

“Uh, yeah… now that you mention it, I do remember seeing that… You’ve got three big ones, right?” Hongjoong asked, taking a moment to close his eyes and remember the sight. His brows were still burrowed with worry though, clearly upset at the idea. Seonghwa wanted to get rid of that expression immediately, to put a smile in its place. A sad expression did not belong on Hongjoong.

“Hongjoong.” Seonghwa dragged Hongjoong from his imagination, and they met eyes. “Don’t worry. I’m ok now, whatever it was.” He reassured the shorter man, moving his thumb in a circle on Hongjoong’s arm.

“Are you sure?” Hongjoong asked.

“The scars are all healed. It must have been a long time ago.” Seonghwa continued. Hongjoong was not the only one comforted by these words; these wounds were old, so those memories must be in the distant past, right? Nothing to do with the present.

“Truthfully, I think I feel similarly to you.” Hongjoong looked away again. “I don’t have physical evidence like you but… there’s definitely something missing. I’m a florist, and I have you, but… there’s definitely something else, too. And I feel like it’s a bad thing.”

“Any idea what it might be about?” Seonghwa tried to help Hongjoong trigger his memory.

“No. But, it’s got me thinking, maybe all of us have something painful we’d rather forget. Jongho had that scary accident, right? And he said that Yeosang experienced something just as scary. They forgot something so big… So maybe we’ve all forgotten something similarly huge.” Hongjoong mumbled his thoughts out loud. Seonghwa hadn’t considered it before, but honestly, that made so much sense.

“But… why are those memories gone? Why specifically those memories? And how?” Seonghwa asked.

“I don’t know…” Hongjoong replied. “Maybe… one of these books can give us a clue?” Hongjoong chuckled, gesturing to the thousands of books in this room. Seonghwa nodded, and they silently agreed to get back to work.

-

The day passed without much more development. It was almost 6:30 pm, and the dining room guards were waiting. San had replayed movies in his head, acting them out all day. Yunho had tried his best to make a fort out of all the chairs, and Mingi had resorted to using a mixture of working out and screaming to stay awake. It was safe to say they were all getting pretty bored.

Mingi glanced over the room and sighed. _This person will never come out while we’re here, right? They won’t let themselves be seen,_ he thought. _I should check on the others, before I die of boredom_. He decided that he would not leave the room, so that if the person did get the bright idea of laying the table while he was checking on the others, he would catch them. And so, Mingi took one glance over of the room, with a noticeable absence of plates or food, and walked to the door. He opened the door, but didn’t exit. Instead, he shouted from the doorway with all his might.

“San! Yunho! How you holding up?” Honestly, probably the whole house could hear him.

“Mingi?” He heard a reply from Yunho from across the lobby.

“Yeah! What’s up?”

“Absolutely nothing. Aren’t you supposed to be watching your room?” Yunho shouted back.

“Yeah, but I’m still here, and there’s no-“ Mingi shouted, intending to tell Yunho that his room was empty. In saying so, he gestured towards his table, despite Yunho not being able to see him, and caught a glance of the dining room. But something caught him off guard, interrupting his sentence.

He must have turned away for no more than five seconds. But there was now a feast, placed neatly on the dining table, surrounded by plates and cutlery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a slightly longer one this time, but i'm not gonna lie i'm a little worried this this chapter was a bit boring? i will try my best to add some more exciting things in the next chapter, but this stuff was still important, i promise! i hope you enjoyed it even just a little bit?
> 
> <3
> 
> and thank you all , luzestelar, Majda, kole and kiya for the comments, i seriously super duper appreciate it <3 it makes my day!!


	4. The Dagger

Plates, cutlery, drinks and placemats had been placed neatly on the table. There was a roast chicken that was steaming in the centre of the table, and various side dishes that looked freshly cooked surrounding it. But it hadn’t been there five seconds ago. Mingi looked incredulously at the scene.

“What…” Mingi said quietly, in absolute shock. “What the fuck?” His voice got slightly louder. “What the FUCK?!” He shouted, panic rising in his throat.

“What? What happened?!” Yunho shouted from across the lobby.

“You okay?” He heard San, too.

“G-guys…? What the fuck, this isn’t funny!” Mingi shouted. That wasn’t possible. He had looked at that dining table just a few seconds ago, and it was empty. He hadn’t heard a thing. But everything was placed so perfectly, and in the blink of an eye. That was impossible, right?

He heard rushed footsteps coming towards the room. Soon, Yunho and San both burst open the door. They must have thought Mingi had seen a ghost by the look on his face.

“Did one of you do this?!” Mingi asked them, although even he knew that that would have been impossible.

“Do what?” San asked, not noticing the problem yet.

“Put the food on the table!” He pointed at the piles of delicious food.

“Of course not! We were in our dining rooms.” Yunho replied.

“Did YOU do that, Mingi?” San questioned, staring at the food.

“No! I… I saw the table one second, with no food, and the next second, there was food everywhere!” Mingi exclaimed, almost screaming at this point.

“That’s… not possible.” San tried to say, but he knew from the look of terror on Mingi’s face that he wasn’t lying. They knew better than to suspect one of their friends.

-

Once everyone had gathered in the room, and had been told what Mingi had seen, they were all unsurprisingly in disbelief.

“Maybe… it was longer than just a few seconds, Mingi. Are you sure you didn’t step out of the room?” Hongjoong said, frowning.

“I didn’t! I just opened the door, stood there, and shouted!” Mingi said, head in hands as he sat on the chair. If he stood up, he still felt dizzy from being so confused.

“Then, there must be some trick that this person pulled! Some kind of illusion or something.” Wooyoung suggested, and some of the others nodded. Perhaps that was true, but a few of them struggled to see how even the most talented showman could pull something like that off.

“Even if that’s the case… I have no idea how we would figure something like that out. It’s only inevitable that someone standing on guard all day will look away, even for a second…” Hongjoong thought aloud as always. “So… it may be impossible to figure out, without some kind of clue.” He said. Honestly, the illusion idea seemed like the most logical explanation, but even then, it didn’t feel right.

Eventually, instead of figuring out any answers, they all chose to just eat. This dinner wasn’t as lively as the night before, especially considering the shock they had just experienced. It wasn’t silent, as Wooyoung and Yunho were both trying their best to start conversation, but the energy had certainly plummeted.

After they had finished eating, Mingi decided that he wanted to be as far away from the dining room as possible, and he quote “wouldn’t be involved in any ghost shit”. So, he suggested that he and everyone else go to the game room.

They hadn’t inspected the room much, so this was the first time they were really using it. There were console games, karaoke machines and a shelf full of board games. There was a rack of DVDs next to a TV, and a big pool table in the centre of the room. It was quite a different style from the rest of the house. While the mansion was mostly a rather grand style, this room seemed more like it belonged in the basement of a bar. There were neon lights decorating the bare brick walls, and the colour scheme was faded and casual.

They tried relaxing, and while the strange happenings were still on their mind, they were starting to forget again. They managed to joke around, poke fun at one another, and laugh. Jongho won any game involving strength, but when it came to playing Dance Dance Revolution (yes, there was one of them in the room too), Yunho and Wooyoung had been competing as if their lives depended on it.

Mingi on the other hand was surprisingly terrible at all the games. He was having fun, but seemed to never have done such things before. He acted as if he had never thrown a basketball, never held a pool stick, and never used a claw machine. It was a little strange. Everyone else, despite loosing memories, still remembered how to use all of these machines. No one took too much notice though, as Mingi’s failures at the games just added to the entertainment for the night.

-

Soon, it was late again. It wasn’t as late as the night before, but they all started to head to bed anyway. After saying their goodbyes to everyone else, Hongjoong and Seonghwa naturally walked together to their rooms.

“Hey,” Hongjoong called as they passed his room. Seonghwa looked at the smaller man, wondering if something was wrong. “Uh, wanna come in and hang out?” Hongjoong said, his lips pressed together as if he was afraid Seonghwa would say no. But of course, that wouldn’t happen.

“Yeah.” He replied, and they proceeded to enter Hongjoong’s room. It was far more decorated than his own. Classical paintings covered the walls, his bed had intricately sewn drapes, and each piece of furniture had carvings on them. It was a little cluttered but honestly, it suited Hongjoong’s personality perfectly; abundantly enticing as well as curiously complex.

“Wow, it’s… well decorated.” Seonghwa commented and Hongjoong laughed.

“I didn’t decorate it, you know.” He commented. “But yeah, I like it.”

“It suits you.” Seonghwa replied, and Hongjoong had a small smile on his face.

“The bathroom is a lot less cluttered.” He said. They took a peek inside, as each of them had an en-suite bathroom, and it was true. While every piece of furniture was still grand, it was a lot brighter and orderly here, with a colour scheme of white and gold.

“This is completely different from my room.” Seonghwa admitted. “Maybe you can come an see another time?”

“Sounds good.” Hongjoong said. It was such a casual conversation, but it was somehow a little awkward, too. Both of them could feel some tension. It wasn’t bad tension – just nervousness. _Why do I feel nervous?_ Seonghwa asked himself, tearing his eyes away from Hongjoong’s jawline.

They both sat down, Hongjoong in his chair and Seonghwa on the floor. It didn’t take long before they were chatting again, just like in the library earlier. But now, they didn’t have anything to distract them. They chatted about anything and everything – sometimes remembering some minor moments they had experienced together, and other times just finding new things about each other. It was such a strange sensation, getting to know someone who felt simultaneously like a stranger and your closest friend.

Soon, it was late at night. Perhaps around 1 a.m. Hongjoong looked around, wanting to rest his back and lie on the bed, but feeling a little icky from playing with the others back in the game room earlier.

“Uh, do you mind if I quickly have a shower? I feel all dusty from the game room and I don’t want to get my bed dirty when I sit on it…” Hongjoong said. Seonghwa nodded in reply.

“Should I go?” He offered, getting up ready to leave. Hongjoong didn’t mean to reply so fast, but it just came out.

“You don’t have to! It’d still be nice to keep chatting…”

“Hmm, okay. I’ll go take a shower in my room, and come back here afterwards.” Seonghwa smiled and they both agreed to the plan.

As Seonghwa showered, he couldn’t help but think about what Hongjoong must have been doing at the same time as him. It wasn’t inappropriate thoughts – only wondering how handsome the younger man must have looked with soaked hair and wet skin. He must have glistened under the lights. Seonghwa smiled at the thought as he finished his own shower, only roughly drying his hair and shoving on some night clothes – a baggy t-shirt and some shorts. It was pretty different from his usual day clothes, but comfortable, as pyjamas should be.

When he did return, he knocked and hoped that Hongjoong wasn’t still in the shower to leave him waiting outside. Something about just going in without being let in didn’t feel comfortable with the older man, so he waited. He only had to wait for a few seconds, though, as Hongjoong opened the door and smiled, letting Seonghwa in.

Seonghwa’s heart skipped a beat. He was right – Hongjoong’s wet hair was just perfect, his skin still slightly damp and therefore glowing. As Hongjoong turned around to walk to his bed while still drying his hair with a towel, Seonghwa couldn’t help but glance over the other’s body, which was now dressed in much softer looking clothes than before. His shirt was white, but worn and slightly see-through, so Seonghwa could see the outline of his slim body. He was wearing longer bottoms, but they tightly hugged his hips, which Seonghwa couldn’t help but be entranced by as he walked away.

Hongjoong sat on the bed, seeming to relax into it. The beds here were certainly very comfortable. Seonghwa wanted to join him, but… he needed to confirm something first.

“H-hey, Hongjoong.” Seonghwa said, following the other towards the bed. Hongjoong looked him in the eyes.

“What’s up?” He asked, his eyes wide with wonder and content.

“Are we… together?” Seonghwa asked.

“W-what do you mean?” Hongjoong said, clearly a little surprised by the question. His brows were becoming lightly pushed together, as if worried. “I thought… we said that even if we fought before, we can work through it… right?”

“I-“ Seonghwa started to panic slightly, desperate not for Hongjoong to misunderstand. “I didn’t mean that. I meant… right now. Here. Even though we can’t remember everything, are we still… together?” He said, and his voice showed how vulnerable he felt. He looked down at Hongjoong, not sure if he should sit on the ground or if he was allowed to sit next to Hongjoong on the bed.

Suddenly but softly, Hongjoong took Seonghwa’s hand, tugging it towards him. He pulled the taller man towards the bed, and practically forced him to sit down as he answered Seonghwa’s question. “I… think so? I’d like to be.” He admitted, blushing as he said so. “But if you don’t want to-“

“I want to.” Seonghwa couldn’t let Hongjoong continue that sentence any further. Even the thought of not being together was already devastating enough, especially when he was looking this damn fine with his wet hair and soft expression. Seonghwa held Hongjoong’s hand, swirling his thumb around the smaller palm. Hongjoong’s hands were soft, and he knew that his were not. It couldn’t have been the nicest feeling, but Hongjoong seemed to enjoy the touch.

“That’s sorted then.” Hongjoong smiled, showing his dazzling teeth as he did so. “We’re together.” He smirked.

“In that case,” Seonghwa said, and Hongjoong looked him in the eye. His heart was beating rapidly in a mixture of that same tension-filled nervousness from earlier, and excitement. “Can I kiss you?” He said. He struggled not to completely combust in embarrassment at the words. He was worried that if he did, Hongjoong would laugh at him, and that would just be… the worst.

But instead, Hongjoong simply stared at him for a second before nodding. It felt like he could see into Hongjoong’s soul, like he could see the constellations and galaxies orbiting around, and Seonghwa’s breath hitched slightly.

He leant in slowly, a lot less confident than yesterday, when he had the alcohol to help him. Hongjoong seemed the same, a little hesitant to dive in too deep too quickly. But as soon as their lips touched, Seonghwa felt as if he knew what to do. Where to place his hands, and how to make Hongjoong shiver under his touch.

He made every touch soft as he traced his hands around Hongjoong’s torso. He rested his hand on just the right spot on Hongjoong’s to pull him closer, and Hongjoong complied. Seonghwa kissed Hongjoong’s lips lightly, but soon those light kisses were making their way to Hongjoong’s cheek, his jawline, and his neck. Seonghwa briefly opened his eyes, and saw a blushing Hongjoong in front of him. The smaller man held Seonghwa’s arms as he relaxed into the kisses, allowing the taller man to lead this time. Hongjoong’s hair was falling into his eyes, so Seonghwa brushed them away with his finger before leaning into the kisses again.

Seonghwa played with Hongjoong’s earlobe as they carried on, slowly melting into each other more and more. They took turns tasting each other while Seonghwa ran his hands along Hongjoong’s arms, still as soft as ever, making Hongjoong shiver under his delicate touch. And eventually, Hongjoong had wrapped his arms around Seonghwa’s neck. Seonghwa nibbled at the crook of the smaller man’s collar. Hongjoong was catching his breath from each little bite, as each one took him by surprise. He gasped, breathing heavily as Seonghwa tasted the man’s soft skin, biting softly. At the same time Seonghwa ran one hand through Hongjoong’s still-damp hair, the other holding the smaller man up firmly. He was feeling weak, unable to hold himself up with so many sensations running through his body.

So, Seonghwa slowly laid Hongjoong down, leaning over him. Hongjoong finally opened his eyes, meeting a pair of shining, expressive ones. His hands grabbed Seonghwa’s collar, having no strength to do anything else. Seonghwa didn’t hesitate to lean in again, licking Hongjoong’s lips and savouring each moment. He was taking it so, so slow, but Hongjoong felt overwhelmed, and he was touching all the right places to make him melt. Because of that, Hongjoong felt as if he would let Seonghwa do anything to him right now.

Seonghwa and Hongjoong’s bodies pressed together as they made out, and Hongjoong’s hands started exploring. They ran their hands along Seonghwa’s muscular back before making their way underneath the shirt, meeting warm skin. He caressed that skin as Seonghwa leant in closer, his thigh pressing softly between Hongjoong’s legs. Hongjoong gasped again at this sensation, realising he had been slowly growing hard. Seonghwa seemed to notice this too, breaking away from the kiss for a moment to make sure Hongjoong was okay. The smaller man simply nodded, being unable to speak without his voice cracking.

And so, Seonghwa started again. He leant in, the kisses now having less softness, and more hunger. Hongjoong’s body was having a mind of its own, and he moved his hips to rub his crotch against Seonghwa’s thighs. His baggy pants felt so, so tight now, itching to be taken off. As Seonghwa bit his lip a little harder than he had before, Hongjoong groaned into it. He grabbed Seonghwa’s shirt, pulling it upwards. Seonghwa complied, letting his shirt be taken off to reveal his chest. Hongjoong took in the sight for a second. This all felt simultaneously new and familiar, and he needed to drink up every moment in detail.

But he didn’t wait long before pulling Seonghwa back in forcefully. He needed him. Now. Soon enough, Hongjoong’s shirt and trousers were on the floor too. Hongjoong would have felt incredibly embarrassed at how naked he was, if it weren’t for his thoughts filled completely with Seonghwa how much he wanted him.

“Ah-“ Hongjoong was breathless as Seonghwa stroked Hongjoong’s cock, maintaining the kiss as he did so. Hongjoong grabbed on to Seonghwa’s arms, digging his nails in as his penis was pumped, first slowly, but gradually getting faster. He moved his hips in time with the movement, feeling ecstasy, his vision spinning despite laying down. He moaned into the kisses, biting Seonghwa’s lip in order to try and control his voice, but it wasn’t working. He couldn’t stop the moans, which were humming through Seonghwa while their lips touched. It was driving Seonghwa simultaneously insane, and Hongjoong knew it.

“Seonghwa-“ Hongjoong broke the kiss, wanting to give Seonghwa something back, not wanting to just take everything for himself. He could see that Seonghwa was hard, too, and his eyes were looking at Hongjoong as if he wanted to devour him.

“Shh.” Seonghwa quieted the smaller man. He pushed Hongjoong back down, and started to move down his torso, leaving a trail of kisses on his chest and stomach as he approached Hongjoong’s erection. “Today, I just want you to come for me, okay?” He said, his voice smooth as he looked at Hongjoong with lust and desire. Hongjoong couldn’t even nod before Seonghwa licked the tip of his penis, and Hongjoong took a sharp breath in at the sensation.

Seonghwa circled his tongue around the tip, slowly, before kissing down his shaft and licking all the way back up. He took Hongjoong’s full member in his mouth, wrapping his tongue around, and sucking as he pulled away. Hongjoong moaned, louder this time, grabbing on to the sheets beside him. Seonghwa did the exact same movement, but each time sucking harder and longer. Hongjoong’s mind was so, so lost, so dizzy, so in heaven. He whined, whimpered and shivered at the sensations, unable to control himself any longer. He wanted to move his hips, but Seonghwa held him down, doing all the work himself.

“Seong- I’m- I’m gonna-“ He said, reaching his peak as Seonghwa held his hips with strong hands. He could feel his body start to become full with ecstasy, and he arched his back, Seonghwa’s mouth wrapped around his cock, taking it in as deep as was humanely possible. Hongjoong felt his stomach become warm as he came, his high finally overflowing, as Seonghwa drank everything up.

Hongjoong had to catch his breath, and let his body unwind before he could do anything else. By that time, Seonghwa had brought tissues to clean themselves off, and gave Hongjoong a glass of much needed water.

“Thanks.” He said as he took a few big gulps. His mouth felt dry from how heavily he had been breathing. He looked at Seonghwa, wondering if perhaps Hongjoong could still help him out, too… but he had already laid down, relaxed, with nothing but adoration for Hongjoong showing in his eyes. Hongjoong blushed at the sight, suddenly wanting to put his clothes back on, but his body was tired.

He laid down next to Seonghwa, who proceeded to put his arm around the smaller man and caress his cheek.

“Stay.” Hongjoong said bluntly, not for a second even considering letting Seonghwa go back to his room for the night. Seonghwa chuckled, happy to oblige. They soon fell asleep in each other’s arms, warm, comfortable, and content.

-

As expected, they were woken up in the morning by the others, who were waiting for them to join for breakfast. It truly felt like this could become the new norm. They proceeded to have another delicious breakfast, and at this point all of them were starting to get used to the idea of eating random food from god knows where that was set out for them. It tasted good, so why complain if it wasn’t poisonous?

The only thing to note about that breakfast was what happened straight afterwards, as everyone was heading off to complete their tasks for the day. No one had taken any notice at all the last few days, but as some of them ascended the grand staircase, they saw that painting. The painting with the tree. But now, it was different. The tree was still equally as dark and ominous as before, but now, several of the branches had leaves and flowers growing at different degrees. Three of those branches were almost exploding with flora, three with only a couple of sparsely scattered leaves and petals, and the other two somewhere in between. A total of eight branches, all with these new accessories.

Wooyoung had noticed it first and pointed it out to the others. At this point, so many strange things had happened here that this didn’t even seem that surprising. But indeed, it was. Who had painted those flowers? And perhaps more importantly, why? They didn’t think about it for too long, already too many tasks at hand and questions to answer. It was just another mystery on a long, long list.

They all agreed to get back to the same jobs as they had the day before, except this time Mingi refused to be a guard for a second day, and Wooyoung begrudgingly took his place. Seonghwa and Hongjoong took to the library again, where they managed to do some reading, although not nearly as much as the day before. They spent a significant amount of time sitting with each other, not saying much, but unable to concentrate on their books with the other right next to them. They both felt content – as if even this situation was just a small footnote and not a huge concern anymore. Perhaps that happiness would wear off after a while, but for now they were savouring the feeling. After several days of running on adrenaline and fear, it was just so much more pleasant to finally feel relaxed again. They knew they could count on each other.

The others got to work breaking down the door. It was proving to be quite the task – they even had to figure out how to use the more scary-looking tools from outside in order to speed up the process. It seemed as if the door was made of several layers of metal and wood, and was held onto the door frame with incredibly tightly secured bolts. Jongho was doing any of the tasks requiring strength, Yeosang and Mingi doing all the other parts that required being able to see. It was a good, if not strangely matched, team.

It took almost the whole day before they had finally broken down the door, which was now in pieces in a pile on the floor. It was a mess, but they had finally gotten in. They could finally unlock one of the mysteries of this house.

Yeosang went in first, desperately curious as to what they had been working hard to see. It was too dark at first, but he quickly found the light switch. Then, what he saw when those lights turned on was, even compared to every single other thing they had experienced on this island so far, bizarre. The first thing to catch his eye was the car placed in the centre of the room. It wasn’t just any car – but a completely smashed up one. The windows were all cracked, if not shattered, and the front of the car would have barely been recognisable as a car if the rest of it didn’t vaguely resemble the shape. Perhaps even stranger than all of this, however, was the fact that the car was wet, water droplets scattered all over. This room was underground, with no windows, and certainly no access to the sky. The rest of the room was completely dry, so why was this smashed up car wet?

Yeosang approached the car, not really taking any notice of the rest of the room. As he did so, he realised: This was the car he was in, the day he had gone to the concert. The same black, slick car that had swerved off the road, and crashed. The same one he was in just before he woke up here.

The other two men were inspecting the rest of the room. On the walls were hanging various objects: on two walls were more tools, none of which they recognised or could even guess the use of. On the third wall, behind the car, hung weapons. There were guns, knives, even spears. Mingi approached that wall carefully, not having any intention to touch anything. Knowing himself, he would probably only get hurt.

But they didn’t look in too much more detail before gathering the others. If there was anything of interest, it would be good for everyone to be there together, right? The three in the dining rooms in particular were clearly itching to do something more interesting than wait around more, and Hongjoong and Seonghwa felt a little bad, especially since they had slacked off a little today. They offered to swap places, which all three of the younger men jumped to accept. In the end, Wooyoung ended up staying in his dining room, only San and Yunho going to the basement with the others (the reasoning being that those two had been on guard for two days straight; Wooyoung only had today). And so, Hongjoong, Seonghwa and Wooyoung were still on dining room guard duty.

The others all rushed to the basement to check out what was there in more detail.

Yunho immediately spotted the car, and felt compelled to approach it. Yeosang watched as he did so, wondering why he seemed to recognise something that he also had a connection to. Yunho paced around the car, ignoring all the other surroundings. He touched one of the water droplets, rubbing the moisture between his pointer finger and this thumb.

The cold water helped his senses come back. Everyone in the room could see it – Yunho was starting to remember. His eyes widened as he took a second to understand the thoughts and visions he was having. Yeosang and Jongho especially knew the feeling. And soon enough, Yunho faced them all.

“I remembered something.” He exclaimed. He usually had a smile on his face, but right now, that was replaced with a look of concern. That change of character was disconcerting to say the least. “It was raining. And… this car. I was hit by it. And then, I was here.” Yunho said, looking at the car and frowning. Yeosang immediately felt his stomach flip as those words were said, wanting to say everything, shout at Yunho that he was in that accident, too. Is that why they had swerved? Because they had hit Yunho? That’s right… Yeosang had caught a glance of a tall figure in front of the car before everything had gone out of control.

But even more than that, Yeosang’s theory about this island was only beginning to be confirmed. He looked at Jongho, who looked back and gave him a concerned look of understanding. Jongho was probably thinking the same thing – had they all died? Was this some kind of afterlife?

But no. That was impossible. Not only was it logically impossible, but why would this be the afterlife? What kind of sense did that make, when all those religions had told them that heaven and hell existed, or that they would be reincarnated, or something equally important sounding. They had never heard about being stranded on a desert island with other strangers with an unending list of mysteries to solve.

But the most compelling reason they had not to believe this was their gut feeling. Surely, if this was the afterlife, they wouldn’t have such a strong belief that they were alive. And so, neither of them said anything for now. Yeosang partially because the words wouldn’t come out of his mouth, and Jongho mostly because he would have no idea how to explain any of it anyway.

Meanwhile, the only other person not paying attention to this scene was San. Ever since San had entered the room, he had been drawn to another part of it – the wall of weapons. He had been slowly making his way towards it, sweating as he did so. It was the same feeling as when he saw the window, and when he approached the lake. But somehow, this time, the feeling was even more magnetic.

He reached out his arm to touch one of the weapons – specifically, the silver dagger that was practically calling out to him. As his finger touched the metal, he was transported. He remembered, just as he had several times before, and just as many of the others had also remembered various times. This time, however, his memory was not vague. It was not in parts, like his other memories of shattering glass or bound wrists, but it was detailed, like he was re-living it. He remembered the whole scene in just a split second.

He had been walking back from church on a Sunday. The sermon had ended in the morning, but he had chosen to stay until the priest had effectively thrown him out. That was the norm, as it was one of his only excuses to stay out of the house on Sundays. What was typical, and what also happened on this day, was that his father had left as soon as the sermon was over. San had stayed all day, offering his help, chatting to others and praying. He wasn’t really sure what he was praying for that day, but that was honestly irrelevant.

It was dark, and he had been walking home. Since he really needed the toilet, he was taking shortcuts through the city neighbourhood, going under bridges and through narrow alleyways. His father was probably at the pub by now, so he didn’t have to worry about that until later.

As he approached a corner that would take him down a labyrinth of alleyways that led straight to his street, he had a bad feeling. But, he ignored it, and pushed on. He turned left, then right, and right again. Only a few more minutes before his home would be in sight.

Except, his fast footsteps came to a halt as he saw something in the near distance. There were two figures. This was the night time, but the scene was clear as day to San. One figure was in the middle of standing from a crouching position, breathing heavily. The other was slouched on the floor, back against the wall. He saw a glimmer of something in the standing man’s hand, which only a second later San could see was a dagger. But the glimmer didn’t come from the silver metal, because it was a red shine.

There was a dripping noise. There was blood dripping from the knife onto the ground, where it joined a puddle of red liquid seeping from the other man’s body, which was barely struggling to move. San could hear the struggling breaths of the injured man. He froze, his body starting to shake. Should he run? Should he hide? Had the person already noticed him?

The standing figure made a sudden move again, and San quickly ducked behind a bin, peering around it discreetly. The man – the one with the bloody knife – thrust the dagger into the other person, and as quickly as the knife had penetrated the chest, the injured person turned limp, motionless. San could feel a panic rising in his stomach.

He had just witnessed a murder.

The figure turned around, and San prayed to all the gods, not just his own, that the person didn’t notice him. That they would run off into the distance, so San could get away to safety. He could see the figure’s face, which was half covered with a mask. What he could see of the man’s face was big eyes and pale skin, blood splattered on it. His eyes were wide, as if mad, and the man was breathing heavily.

San couldn’t help but think that man must have been the devil. But the San who was remembering the event knew it wasn’t.

No. Anyone would recognise those eyes. This man wasn’t the devil. This man, this murderer… was Seonghwa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is my first time writing smut and it was surprisingly not as difficult as i thought haha. definitely plan to add more in later chapters. pls feel free to tell me if it was cringe af in the comments LMAO. but as always i hope you're enjoying this chapter !!!!
> 
> also asdoihaosid i got so many lovely comments on the last one, it gave me strength to write this chapter so quickly. thank you to Majda and luzestelar for being so nice as always <3 and also to seonghwazz, leetaeyongs, sleepylion and Kristellaix too, <3 <3


	5. The Flowers

San’s mind was spinning, unable to concentrate on anything else other than what he had just remembered. Seonghwa was… a murderer. That word – murderer – kept echoing inside his head, and he couldn’t think about anything else. He didn’t even hear the first few times that the others called his name.

“San!” Mingi shouted, his tone slightly sharp. San snapped out of his trance, whipping his head around to see the others. “Are you deaf?”

“Huh?” San asked, and the others looked at him in concern. “Ah, sorry, I’m just feeling a bit tired. Did you say something?” He didn’t know why, but yet again, he felt as if he needed to keep this a secret. He needed to confirm things, or to find out more. He needed to process his thoughts before he said anything to them.

“Yeah, I asked if you recognise those knives or something.” Mingi continued. He had probably been standing there, looking at the weapon rack for a minute or so. San shook his head.

“No, I just thought they looked cool.” He replied. He did feel a little bad that he had lied, and that he hadn’t told them anything he had remembered, but his gut was telling him that this was what he should to do.

“Oh, okay.” Mingi dropped the subject. San spent the next few minutes inspecting the rest of the room, but nothing else seemed to draw him in. He wondered silently to himself – did Seonghwa know all of this already? If so… was he a danger to the rest of them? And if not, would bringing him here trigger those memories?

They all eventually left the room, heading back upstairs to meet the others again. By this time, some of their stomachs were grumbling.

They visited Hongjoong, and then Seonghwa, to tell them what they found (San did not say much, preferring to keep his distance from Seonghwa right now). Then they went to visit Wooyoung, ready to tell him all the details, too. Yunho was the one to open the door, with everyone else behind, and as the door did so, they saw Wooyoung, fast asleep in his chair. And next to him, a table full of food. Mingi groaned at the sight, and the others sighed in frustration.

“Can’t you concentrate for twenty minutes?!” Mingi shouted, causing Wooyoung to jolt awake. As soon as he did, he saw the feast in front of him and stood up so fast that he knocked the chair he was sitting on over.

Soon enough, they were all sitting down and eating dinner again. The atmosphere was starting to become lighter by the day, as they strangely got used to all these absurdities. Jongho and Yeosang mostly stuck together, but would still join the others when the time arose. Wooyoung, Mingi, and Yunho would be the loudest of the group, constantly bickering and making jokes. Seonghwa would be the one to calm them down when things got out of hand, and Hongjoong frequently made sarcastic remarks towards the others.

However, San was the only one not joining in with the fun. Instead, throughout dinner he had constantly been watching Seonghwa’s every move. He followed Seonghwa’s hand as it grabbed a knife and cut into the meat on his plate, and noticed how the man’s body was more muscular than he had originally assumed. But, at the same time, he saw as Seonghwa laughed at the other’s jokes, and how he glanced at Hongjoong with nothing less than pure adoration in his eyes.

Was that really the behaviour of a killer?

While eating his food, San also considered some questions he hadn’t asked himself yet. Was Seonghwa the one who put him underwater? Could it be… He had seen San that time, and decided to go after him, to get rid of any eye witnesses?

San frowned at the thought. It was yet another time where something sounded logical, but his gut told him it was just plain wrong. He didn’t know if Seonghwa had been the one that tried drowning him, and he didn’t know whether he had seen the younger man at the murder scene or not. He did know a few things for sure, though; First of all, this Seonghwa right now did not remember that event. Seonghwa was so comfortable, and his eyes were full of so much happiness. But those eyes San had seen… those were not happy eyes. They were the eyes of the devil. Right now, Seonghwa was not the devil.

The other thing he knew for sure was that he needed to let Seonghwa know. Yet again, another gut feeling going against his logic. His logic was telling him ‘ _No, do not let him remember, otherwise you will all be in danger’_. And yet, he still decided that needed to speak to Seonghwa, privately. San therefore continued to watch the older man for the rest of the dinner, and Seonghwa seemed to grow slightly tenser throughout the night. Perhaps he had noticed San’s staring.

“I’m going to the toilet.” San suddenly announced after finishing his meal, surprising everyone since he had barely spoken a word all evening.

He got up to leave, looking Seonghwa directly in the eyes, as if to give him a hint. Seonghwa frowned slightly at this, watching as San left.

“Uh, yeah, me too…” Seonghwa said awkwardly, but no one seemed to suspect anything. Only a few moments later, they met face to face outside the dining room, in the hallway. San gestured his head sideways, inviting Seonghwa further away from the room, so as to not allow anyone else to hear. The younger wasn’t quite sure why he wasn’t telling everyone else, too, especially since his palms were sweating and he was almost vibrating with fear. As he looked at Seonghwa, the images of the murder kept flashing across his mind. His body was telling him to run, but he didn’t.

“Are you ok, San?” Seonghwa asked, his voice showing genuine concern.

“I…” He said, voice already cracking. He was terrified, and Seonghwa’s deepening frown suggested that his fear was showing very, very clearly. “You… should go to the basement. I, uh, suggest you go alone.” San said, stuttering.

“Um… okay. Did you… remember something?” Seonghwa tried to understand, but San didn’t reply to that question.

“Just… go alone. Please.” He said instead.

“Why?” Seonghwa pressed, clearly not satisfied with his pleas alone.

“B-because you’re… not gonna like what you remember.” San muttered, before quickly turning and running away, unable to hold the fear of the older man any longer. He knew he wouldn’t die right this second, but… he needed to get to the others. He felt so much safer there.

Seonghwa didn’t return to the dining room straight away. Instead, he paused for a moment, frowning, before deciding. He decided that he should accept San’s suggestion. He would apparently remember something bad, and then he could be alone to process his thoughts. That’s why San spoke to him like this, right?

His feet took him down the stairs to the basement, his mind in a jumble. As soon as he entered the room, he knew exactly what San wanted him to look at. There were ten weapons in total on the rack, ranging from guns to knives to a spear. As soon as he saw the glistening metal, Seonghwa’s eyes opened wide.

He could remember.

Stars circled in his vision, and he was becoming dizzy. He grabbed on to the wall behind him to stop himself from falling.

Ten weapons.

Ten jobs.

Ten murders.

Scenes rushed through his mind, the memories resurfacing. He started to shake.

He remembered the first kill he had completed. He had been put in a to-the-death match with a fellow recruit for the agency he was to work for – and whoever won would graduate from training to work. The other recruit had come at him with their sword of choice. Seonghwa desperately dodged each swing, having trained for it for years. He bounced from one side of the locked room to the other, and the opponent had become frustrated. Seonghwa knew he could easily beat that guy… but he didn’t want to. He hoped for ten straight minutes, using all his energy to hope that someone would stop the match, and he wouldn’t have to kill the other.

But that time didn’t come, and Seonghwa was starting to loose his energy. His opponent had noticed this, thrusting the sword forward and slicing through Seonghwa’s torso. The sword as lodged in there, stuck between two ribs. The opponent pulled the sword out and dropped it, thinking they had won. But they hadn’t killed Seonghwa yet, and the injured man still had some strength left.

He crashed into the opponent, sending him flying to the ground, and Seonghwa took the opportunity to attack. While his opponent had received a sword, he had received only a set of brass knuckles. The recruiting agency had a vendetta against Seonghwa, but he wasn’t about to let that end his life.

So, he punched. Again, and again. He saw red, his hands were covered in so much red, and eventually, the body underneath him stopped fighting back. His torso was in so much pain, but even then, he couldn’t stop. He needed to make sure. Otherwise, he would die.

It was several minutes after he had won that he stopped punching. Blood had splattered around the whole room, and Seonghwa could think of nothing. His mind was blank, and he couldn’t move.

The Seonghwa in the present began to shake more violently as he approached the wall. Those brass knuckles were hanging there, spotless in appearance, but completely tainted. He shifted his gaze over the other weapons. He saw the scythe, and recalled his first real job, to take out a woman who was planning to commit mass murder on the public. He saw the small revolver and remembered his fifth job, which may as well have been a death sentence. He had been sent to kill a government official from a different country that had threatened several Korean political figures. On top of that, he had a bad gambling addiction. Seonghwa had therefore been told that he could only finish this job in one way: Playing, and winning, Russian Roulette.

Finally, his gaze landed on the dagger that San had seen, and he remembered. The agency had given him his tenth job. He hadn’t been given many jobs recently, so had taken the time to visit the care home his parents had been in. He wasn’t allowed to meet with them, but he found a spot in the nearby park to watched them from afar. After hours of watching, he finally caught a glimpse of the two of them in the living room of the home, and he was swiftly pulled down from his excitement as he got that call informing him of his next job.

That’s right. He didn’t want to do those jobs, but he had to. Not only because he would be killed otherwise, but because his parents would also be killed. He hadn’t seen them in almost seven years, but it was still enough to keep him under their control.

The job was easy enough. It was some large older bloke, who had apparently gotten involved in some black market activities, specifically something about human trafficking. The government needed him eliminated, because he was a ‘danger to the nation’. Seonghwa scoffed at that. Who had kidnapped him when he was only 15? The government. Who had him carry out forced labour under threat of death and worse? The government. The government had trafficked him, but he was being sent to kill someone who was just unlucky enough to not be involved with the right organisation. Maybe the government didn’t think of Seonghwa as human anymore; just a killing machine.

Seonghwa only had to follow the guy into a dark alleyway and stab him twice. Seonghwa had developed a technique to block out the terrible feelings he felt every single time he killed another person: He pretended he was not himself. He was simply a robot, killing bad guys and fulfilling orders in order to protect the real Seonghwa.

The problem that arose with this particular job, however, was that someone else had seen the murder. That hadn’t happened before. A collegue had been watching from afar, as backup (because apparently this guy may have been carrying firearms – which he wasn’t), but the person had apparently run away too fast, and they hadn’t been able to catch him.

Since his collegue had noticed the eyewitness, they were the ones tasked with tracking them down and eliminating them. Seonghwa was eternally grateful for this; he hadn’t had to kill anyone truly innocent yet. That day would come eventually, he knew that, but he was grateful it hadn’t been that day. That colleague, as far as Seonghwa knew, would be trying to chase that individual for months, but Seonghwa was no longer involved, and didn’t want to know any more than he already did.

He remembered not only those ten jobs in explicit detail, but also his day to day lifestyle. It was an understatement to say that the jobs had taken an emotional toll on him. He had grown up with loving parents who taught him that violence was never the answer, and that he should always love others. But now, his life depended on the deaths of so many. He lived each day trying to forget, trying not to hate himself. He saw the world in black and white, where the people smiling and laughing with their friends in the streets were in the light, and he was deep in the shadows. The only thing keeping him going was knowing that his parents were safe. But he couldn’t also help but wonder – were the lives of those ten people less important than the three he was protecting?

Present-day Seonghwa kneeled on the floor, eyes closed, tears running down his face. He was cursing himself, screaming internally, and shaking violently. He opened his eyes to look at both of his hands. Those hands that had murdered too many, that had been covered in blood numerous times. Those hands that had shoved the dagger into the man’s stomach, and that had slit the woman’s throat open in a split second, but also those hands that had caressed Hongjoong’s cheeks.

But how did Hongjoong fit into all of this? Seonghwa racked his brain for answers, desperately needing to remember. The agency certainly wouldn’t let him have a relationship with an innocent citizen. How had they gotten together? How had Seonghwa kept him a secret from the world? Or… had he?

No, he hadn’t. That would have been impossible.

That’s right.

Hongjoong had been his last job. Seonghwa suddenly stopped shaking as he realized, his body becoming completely still as his mind slowly went through his relationship with Hongjoong.

He had been given a job to execute Hongjoong. He had been given the reason that this man ‘knew too much’. Seonghwa knew from that description that this would be his first kill of an innocent. But he thought of his parents, and he became the robot.

Seonghwa had been given a month to kill him, and had planned on completing the task on the first day as he usually did. He was planning to kill this innocent man after his work shift, as he headed home.

As was the usual for his jobs, Seonghwa kept an eye on his target for the whole day. This was in case the target, for example, left work early, in which case the plan would need to be changed. Seonghwa sat in a café opposite the florists where this man worked, watching from afar. The man was energetic and hardworking, and Seonghwa couldn’t help but wonder what the hell this guy had seen or heard that had gotten him into so much trouble.

He had been watching since early morning, and the man was apparently supposed to work there until closing time. At his lunch break, however, was when things started to change for Seonghwa. Hongjoong didn’t go to the local corner shop as expected, nor did he go into any of the nearby cafés. Seonghwa had to follow him all the way to the local park, and hide behind trees when the smaller man sat down in the middle of the field to eat his lunch. He just sat there, staring at the grass and the other plants. At one point, some ants had made their way over to where he was sat, and instead of swatting them away like any normal person would do, he patiently picked them up and placed them back down near some trees.

Seonghwa watched in mild amusement at this man. It couldn’t be more obvious that this guy loved nature and all it had to offer. As he watched the other man nibble at his home-made sandwich, Seonghwa wondered what was so good about plants that this man liked so much. Seonghwa used to play in parks, walk in nature and run in the woods when he was younger, but now, nature was just another reminder of death. As the seasons passed, the trees and flowers grew, only to be killed by the harsh cold once autumn came around. It only reminded Seonghwa of the times he had so cold-heartedly taken the lives of others that were just beginning to bloom, even if they were growing into poisonous plants.

But Hongjoong wasn’t poisonous.

Before he killed the man, Seonghwa needed to know something.

That afternoon, after Hongjoong had gone back to work, Seonghwa took a visit to the florists himself. He needed to know about this man, to find some kind of inherent flaw with him. Something that would make him feel slightly less guilty about his death. Something that would show his thorns.

He entered the shop, and was instantly greeted by Hongjoong, who was busy transferring some plants into vases. Seonghwa pretended to browse, and noticed how nicely all the flowers had been arranged, some in bouquets, others still growing in vases.

“Can I help?” The smaller man finally approached him after finishing his task. Seonghwa looked at the man, and couldn’t help but notice how well he fit in with the surroundings. His hair was styled, his clothes bright and eyes wide. He had an aura of freshness about him, almost exactly like a flower.

“Uh… I’m looking for some flowers.” Seonghwa said dumbly, not really knowing how he was going to get any information out of the other.

“Well that’s good ‘cause we have lots.” Hongjoong replied, not hiding the sarcasm in his voice. Seonhwa almost smirked. Almost. “What occasion are they for?” Hongjoong asked.

Seonghwa thought for a moment, trying to think of an event you might buy flowers for, but only one could come to mind. “… A funeral.” He said awkwardly, expecting the other to become uncomfortable. Seonghwa thought that the idea of giving flowers at funerals was silly. _Why would you put something so vibrant next to a dead person? What an oxymoron._

But instead of showing discomfort, Hongjoong simply looked into the taller man’s eyes with sympathy. Seonghwa was a little shocked at the small gesture. Most of the time, people’s intended emotions didn’t reach their eyes, but with this guy it was certainly different. “Well, lilies are a common choice. Since they’re pure white, some people think they represent innocence.” Hongjoong said, gesturing over towards their lilies. Seonghwa frowned at the thought. Death wasn’t innocent. Especially not the death that Hongjoong would face under Seonghwa’s hands.

“Hmm… I’m not sure about that.” Seonghwa said.

“In that case, what about the person’s favourite type of flower? Or one that matches their favourite colour?” Hongjoong suggested. Seonghwa considered this, before suddenly replying.

“What’s your favourite flower?”

Seonghwa almost wanted to slap himself. Not only was the question out of the blue, but he couldn’t help but see the irony. He was being told to choose a flower for the deceased, not for Hongjoong, who was very much alive in this moment.

“I guess… Daffodils?” Hongjoong said, staring into space as he imagined the yellow flower. Without being asked, he continued. “After the cold, dark winter… they suddenly bloom, and they’re the first sign of life. Even though the conditions before were difficult, they grow from those struggles into something so bright and beautiful. It’s not always easy for people, too, but the most beautiful moments in life are when we pull through, and we become something amazing, even just for a moment.” He finished explaining, nodding his head as he spoke.

That was the exact moment in which Seonghwa started to change his mind about this job.

How could he kill someone who saw the beauty in such simple things? How could he drain the life from a man who so clearly fought to see the bright parts of life? The thought made Seonghwa want to gag. But how could he not kill him? If he didn’t, his parents would die. He himself would certainly die, too. And even after all of that, the government would surely just send another hitman to finish his work.

Seonghwa bought a bunch of daffodils before leaving. He didn’t watch the man for the rest of the day, choosing instead to go back home. His evening was spent admiring the flowers, and thinking about how this man had affected him so. Would he be affected in a similar way by any other innocent person? Possibly. But the fact was, Hongjoong was the one influencing him.

The next day, Seonghwa returned to the florists. He was still conflicted, and needed more. He needed to know more about the man, so he could make up his mind. Yes, that was definitely why Seonghwa walked in there and boldly asked the man out to dinner. He reasoned that some hitmen in his corporation would often use seduction tactics to capture their prey. Surprisingly, Hongjoong accepted.

They had gone to the café across the road from the shop that Seonghwa had perched himself in the day before to spy on the shorter man. They both chatted lightly, and Hongjoong drinking his coffee as Seonghwa ate a cake. Hongjoong had suddenly started laughing and something mildly amusing Seonghwa had said, and he couldn’t help but watch in awe. When had the taller man last laughed so hard? Maybe once during the last seven years under the government’s control, and that was only when we was very, very drunk with some other recruits. As Seonghwa remembered that time, he realised that most of those recruits were now dead.

He imagined how he could kill Hongjoong in that very moment, right there in the café, in front of the public. He could shove the fork he had for his cake into the man’s throat. He could poison Hongjoong’s drink. He could plant a bomb and leave at just the right time. Or he could walk the man home, and very, very easily kill him there. There were so many ways. But… if he did that, Hongjoong would never laugh again. This would be his last laugh. His last smile.

Seonghwa couldn’t let that happen.

Once they settled down again, Hongjoong took on a more serious expression.

“I’ve been meaning to ask… how was yesterday?” He asked. Seonghwa almost had no idea what he was talking about, but remembered the daffodils as he saw Hongjoong’s concerned expression.

“Oh… it was… fine. It gave me closure.” Seonghwa replied. It was true that the daffodils had helped him, but most certainly not in the way Hongjoong was imagining.

The next few weeks consisted of many more dates. Seonghwa was becoming more infatuated with the hardworking man, and that man seemed to be reciprocating. Seonghwa made it his personal goal to make Hongjoong laugh every single day, and he succeeded. It was a constant happy cycle of meeting, laughing, and repeat. Seonghwa had never been so happy to wake up in the morning, all because of his little crush.

But at the same time, several things were eating him alive. Firstly, the fact that this could not continue. This had to end eventually, in one way or another.

“I feel like you haven’t told me anything about yourself.” Hongjoong pouted one night as they sat in his home, filled with flowers. That was the second reason.

They had been drinking a little, so the smaller man was a little tipsy. “Like, this might sound so stupid to you, but you have this sadness in your eyes, and I want to know why. I wanna know more about you, Hwa.” He said. Okay, so maybe he was more than just tipsy. But Seonghwa accepted the words, knowing that this was how Hongjoong truly felt.

“But I could say the same to you.” Seonghwa thought before saying, and Hongjoong clearly didn’t understand. “I want to know so much, and you’re telling me so much, but none of it is what I need.” He said, not knowing how else to phrase it. “I approached you, wanting to find something bad. A reason to not like you… But there’s nothing. There’s nothing bad.” Seonghwa said, his words a bit of a mess. Maybe he was more than just tipsy, too.

“W-why would you want to find something bad?” Hongjoong asked, still confused. “Besides, I’ll have you know, there are plenty of bad things about me. First of all, I throw my dirty socks behind furniture so that I don’t have to wash them.” He said, and Seonghwa laughed, but the sadness in his laugh was clear. “I also suck at cooking. Like, last time I cooked, my friend had food poisoning. _That_ bad.” Hongjoong admitted. “It was because I didn’t cook the meat well enough…”

“How… terrible of you.” Seonghwa replied.

“Hwa, what’s wrong?” Hongjoong asked.

“Nothing.” Seonghwa responded quickly.

“It’s not nothing.” Hongjoong said, and Seonghwa could tell the man was being serious again. That was another lovely thing about Hongjoong; he expressed his emotions so clearly, when all Seonghwa was used to was trying to read between the lines of each micro movement. “Hwa, I like you. I really, really like you. Maybe a bit too much considering we’re only been together, what? Almost a month? And I want to continue this. But… if you also want to continue, you’ve got to tell me the truth.” He said, shocking Seonghwa a little. This was a lot to take in. Had Hongjoong noticed every time Seonghwa lied or avoided telling the truth? Additionally, Hongjoong wanted to continue this relationship. That was utterly devastating to Seonghwa, who had nothing to say in reply.

“I… don’t want to push. You don’t have to tell me everything now. But… over time?” He said, clearly worried that he had pushed Seonghwa’s buttons.

“Joong.” Seonghwa said in a deep voice, not looking him in the eye. “What if… I tell you everything, and you realise what a terrible person I am?” He asked. His voice felt heavy in his throat, and his eyes were moist. had to kill the man. But he knew he couldn’t. And he couldn’t bring himself to tell him.

“Hwa… I doubt anything can be that bad.” He tried reassuring the other by placing a hand on his shoulder.

“No, it’s… Joong, it’s so fucking bad. I don’t deserve you. What I’ve done… it’s so… vile. So wrong. But I just feel so selfish. I’ve fallen for you, I want to be with you, I want to hear your laughter every day, and I want you to be happy.” Seonghwa had pushed the other’s arm away, and was speaking rather loudly, tears threatening to roll down his cheeks. “But it can’t… because I’m an evil person. And you should leave me.” The droplets finally fell. ‘ _Because no matter what I do or what I feel, you will die’,_ Seonghwa wanted to scream.

“Seonghwa. Listen.” Hongjoong interrupted his thoughts. “No matter what, I will not just abandon you. No matter how evil you think you are, I know you’re not. No matter what you’ve done, the you I know is caring, thoughtful and loving. You clearly regret whatever it is. So why would I want to leave you?!” He grabbed Seonghwa’s face, forcing the crying man to look at him. Hongjoong was frowning in a loving anger.

Seonghwa was becoming desperate for Hongjoong to understand, this was not as simple as a mistake he had made in his past. This was something that Seonghwa knew, and felt every day, was disgusting. Spiteful. Abominable.

“Joong- you don’t- I can’t-“ He felt like breaking down, like telling Hongjoong everything. Usually, he was strong. He had trained for years to be physically strong, to supress his feelings. But this man was bringing them all back up. He couldn’t let someone who gave him so much die. Through tears, and holding on to Hongjoong’s arms like the world depended on it, he spoke. “You- you have to trust me. Joong, I- I can’t let something happen to you. I can’t.” Hongjoong nodded, trying to wipe some of the tears. Seonghwa’s vision was too blurry, but if he had been able to see, he would have noticed that Hongjoong was crying, too. “You will hate me. You will despise me after I tell you, but- even when you do, I will do everything to make sure nothing happens to you. I promise.” Hongjoong was clearly confused, not understanding what the other was implying.

“Seonghwa, you’re scaring me.” Hongjoong admitted, voice shaking. But he didn’t let go of the other crying man. “Please… tell me. Please.” He begged.

“This might seem irrelevant, but please… trust me.” Seonghwa held on to the other, but couldn’t look him in the eyes. “Is there anything you know… that might put you in danger?” The other replied only with silence, and Hongjoong could feel his arms tense up a little. Seonghwa figured Hongjoong knew exactly what Seonghwa was talking about.

“Y-you… know?” Hongjoong’s voice shook.

“I don’t know _what_ you know. But I know the _fact_ that you know, Hongjoong. And it’s not just me. Powerful people know.” Seonghwa’s voice was becoming slightly more stable. If he was to tell Hongjoong everything, he needed to be stong. Not only for his own sake, but also for Hongjoong’s. He finally looked up and met the other’s eyes, which were wide with distress. “I don’t know why, or what it is, but those people, Joong. They don’t like you knowing. They can’t stand it. Do you… understand?” He searched the other’s eyes, trying to find anything. He wanted to tell him that he wouldn’t let anything happen, that he would give his life to protect the smaller man. He wanted to wipe that frown off of his face.

Slowly, Hongjoong nodded. Whatever he knew, he knew it was very dangerous information, and he knew what that meant in the world of the rich and powerful, especially if he wasn’t part of that world himself.

“But… what do you have to do with that?” Hongjoong said, voice quiet and still unsteady. Seonghwa hesitated to confirm what the smaller man was clearly dreading to hear.

“They hired me to carry out the job.” He said slowly and clearly.

Instead of screaming, or becoming angry, or starting to fight Seonghwa, which would all be valid responses, he just sat there in thought. Seonghwa wanted to know desperately what was running through his head, but he let him process everything for as long as he needed. Eventually, Hongjoong spoke again. He seemed calm and collected, on top of the expected fear and confusion. He was acting as if he truly trusted Seonghwa.

The rest of the night was an emotional rollercoaster. They both cried, they both pleaded with the other, and they both explained everything. How Hongjoong had stumbled upon career-ending private information of several powerful people, completely by accident. How Seonghwa had gotten to the position he was in now. And most importantly, what they were going to do from now on.

The Seonghwa that was now on the island was sitting on the cold ground in the damp basement, feeling as numb as Hongjoong must have felt all those months ago. After that point, they had been on the run. Many things happened, and they had issues. All those memories – of camping, laughing together, and making love – those all happened on the run.

But there was one thing bothering Seonghwa so, so much. Why had Hongjoong stayed with him? Had he felt that he had to, for survival? Had he been afraid that Seonghwa would suddenly flip a switch if he didn’t reciprocate his feelings? The taller man would have been more than accepting if Hongjoong didn’t want to carry on the relationship, but did Hongjoong know that?

Seonghwa didn’t know the answers to those questions. He only had one thought running through his mind: _I made him feel like he had to be in a relationship with me. He doesn’t love me, he is scared of me, even if he doesn’t remember that right now._

Seonghwa stood up, gathering his strength. How could he return to Hongjoong after remembering all of this? How could he face the man he loved knowing that he would fall out of love with him?

He didn’t return to the dining room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took quite a long time to write and it's so mediocre in terms of writing T_T!!!! quarantine is really making me work slowly T_T but I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and i hope it clears up some questions you've had (some of you already had good guesses about seonghwa's ~backstory~ lol), and maybe created some new questions hehe?
> 
> thank you for so many comments on the last chapter, it made me smile :) Thank you taestythot, seonghwazz, KOLE, leetaeyongs, Majda and akdheiwjdbsl (had to copy and paste that name lmao) <3 <3 <3 and i hope y'all have a good day!!!


	6. The Rain

It wasn’t long before Hongjoong noticed Seonghwa’s absence. San had returned 15 minutes ago, without the taller man. Hongjoong assumed he may have just been taking a dump, but this was really, very long. He tried to convince himself that maybe his partner was just having difficulty… but something didn’t seem quite right.

“Hey, did you see Seonghwa before you came back from the bathroom?” Hongjoong asked San when there was a pause in conversation. San hesitated to answer, which Hongjoong couldn’t help but notice.

“Uh, yeah. I saw him in the hallway.” He replied. Hongjoong nodded, but was not quite satisfied with that answer.

“He… was headed to the bathroom, right?” The older man pushed for more. San looked Hongjoong in the face, trying to read him.

“Hongjoong, can I ask a question?” He asked for permission, and Hongjoong nodded. “Are you absolutely sure that you and Seonghwa were together before you came here? You definitely remember it, right?” San asked. The others were having a conversation of their own, not listening to the two of them. Hongjoong frowned at the question. This all seemed… strange.

“Yes.” He said resolutely after a moment of consideration. He definitely remembered being together. He could recall memories with Seonghwa in detail. That was for sure. “Why?” San looked at him, still searching for something. He looked… worried. Maybe even scared. “San… what’s wrong?” He asked when he didn’t receive a reply to his previous question. By now, the others had stopped their conversation, noticing the tension. They were listening intently.

San grew clearly uncomfortable under everyone’s gazes. He was tense, but at the same time, he seemed terrified. Hongjoong wanted to reassure him that he didn’t need to be afraid… but at the same time, what was making him so uncomfortable?

“Earlier… in the basement… I remembered some things.” San said. Hongjoong waited for him to continue, but nothing more came out of his mouth.

“What did you remember?” Hongjoong tried to keep his voice soothing, but he knew this wasn’t his greatest forte.

“It was… about Seonghwa. I thought he would want to know, too, so I told him to go to the basement.” San ignored Hongjoong’s question.

“Okay. So he’s in the basement. But what did you remember?” Mingi piped in.

“I don’t think it’s my place to say.” He said, sounding resolute.

“San.” Wooyoung spoke up from the sidelines, and the anxious boy looked at him. “Don’t worry. We’re not mad.” He patted his hand on San’s shoulder.

“Yeah. It’s pretty kind of you to let Seonghwa remember on his own first, I guess.” Jongho shrugged. Everyone seemed to nod in agreement. That was it, right? San just… wanted to let Seonghwa remember first. Hongjoong tried to persuade himself of that, but wasn’t fully convinced. If that was the case, why had be been so unwilling to tell them? Either way, Hongjoong decided that he’d better go check up on Seonghwa, and stood to leave after giving a reassuring nod to San and the others.

As he did so, San felt only the tiniest bit of weight lift from his shoulders. What he had told them was only a speck of the whole picture. He hadn’t told them everything else – what he remembered about his home life, and what exactly he had remembered about Seonghwa. There was still so, so much more to say. But in his heart, he needed to know everything first. He needed to know the truth, so that he could be sure he wasn’t mistaken. While he was certain that Seonghwa had murdered that man… perhaps there was a reason other than pure evil, like he had originally thought. And perhaps that memory of his father had been from a long time ago, and he had managed to escape that life already.

That’s the thing. He didn’t know. And unlike everyone else, who seemed so sure of their memories, he was still sceptical. More than sceptical, however, he didn’t want to believe that his life was really like that. He didn’t want to believe that his life had been so full of violence and fear, not only from his own family, but also towards the world after that incident he had witnessed. Because, in that case, what reason would he have to want to escape this place? And he _did_ want to escape this place, right?

-

Hongjoong headed out of the room, leaving the others to stay. He walked down the hallway, and past the front door, where thunder pounded against the air. It hadn’t been so obvious in the dining room, but it was raining heavily outside, the water almost clapping against the glass of the windows. As he walked through the lobby, Hongjoong didn’t notice the new flowers that had grown on the painting of the tree. He powered forward, a little worried about Seonghwa.

But as he entered the basement, he noticed how void of life it was. Hongjoong noticed the smashed up car, the tools, and the wall of weapons, none of which triggered a memory for him personally. But there was no Seonghwa. Instead of wasting time wondering about what could have triggered San and Seonghwa’s memories, Hongjoong immediately started to search for the other man. He called for him a few times, but was met with silence. Seonghwa was definitely not in the basement. What about the lobby? Hongjoong searched there, but there was nobody. He searched the stairway, the ground floor hallways, and checked the other two dining rooms. He even went up to both of their rooms to check, including their bathrooms (he really was desperately hoping that the other was just taking a huge dump). But he couldn’t find the other man.

Hongjoong let out a frustrated exhale. For all he knew, Seonghwa could have been looking for him, but he had been moving around so much that they hadn’t been able to run in to each other. Or maybe he had gone back to the dining room. With that thought, the small man ran back, a panic rising in his throat as he begged the powers that be for his partner to be there.

But as he slammed open the door, only six other pairs of eyes met his. Seonghwa had not returned.

“What’s up?” Yunho broke the silence first.

“I… can’t find Seonghwa.” Hongjoong admitted, and his voice showed a bit more vulnerability than he wished it did. He watched as they all reacted, some in clear worry, others in scepticism.

“Have you looked everywhere?” Wooyoung asked.

“No, but this house is so fucking big. Can you guys help, please?” Hongjoong didn’t need to say much more before everyone was up on their feet to help. They all took on different sections of the house and searched each room thoroughly, multiple times. They were all growing tired, as it was late, but the panic in Hongjoong’s throat was rising as he realised that the other was nowhere to be seen. He returned to the lobby to wait for the others, and in doing so noticed the water near the front door. _That’s strange_ , he thought, approaching it. The door was sealed, with no gaps for the rain to get in through. There wasn’t even a crack. Therefore, the only way this water would have gotten here must have been if the door had been opened.

That was when he realised – Seonghwa must have gone outside, in this pouring rain. His stomach sunk. What the hell had he remembered? Was he not scared to be out there – on this strange island, on this dark, rainy night?

Without waiting for the others, Hongjoong pushed the door open and took steps into the darkness. The only light was coming from the house’s windows, but beyond where that light reached was almost pitch blackness. Hongjoong squinted his eyes to try and see into the distance, his hair and clothes already getting wet. He could vaguely make out the shapes of individual trees, and the garden. But he couldn’t see any human figures. He tried calling Seonghwa’s name, although at this point the rain was so loud that someone standing more than ten metres away probably wouldn’t have been able to hear him at all.

With no response, he moved forwards towards the trees. He had to push his body against the rain as it hit him. He could barely see after entering past the treeline, the only thing illuminating his path the dim moon behind the clouds. It was suffocating, overwhelming. He was worried that if it rained any harder, there would be no air left to breathe. Was it even possible for it to rain this much? Despite these oddities, he pushed forward, calling Seonghwa’s name. He didn’t dwell on it too much, but he felt a sense of déjà vu as he was going through all of this. Had he done something like this before? But right now, that didn’t matter. The only on Hongjoong’s mind was knowing that Seonghwa was out here somewhere, alone and just as scared as he was.

He was practically screaming at this point, hoping that the sounds would eventually reach someone’s ears. He didn’t know which direction to go, so he wondered aimlessly until he saw another clearing. His clothes were soaked, and it was difficult to move, but he forced himself towards the area. In the distance, he could make out the sea, which was illuminated by the moonlight, reflecting into the surroundings and creating some scenery that Hongjoong could actually make out. He went towards it, noticing that he had reached the cliff of the island. He hoped that with this additional light reflecting from the waves, he might be able to see the beach from the cliff top with a bit more clarity.

But he didn’t even need to get to the cliff’s edge before he saw the figure he had been searching desperately for.

The figure was stood still in the clearing – not at the edge of the cliff, nor under a tree for protection from the elements, but right in the middle of the empty land.

Hongjoong called for him, and he clearly heard it. Before Seonghwa had much chance to react, Hongjoong had almost run up to him. But before he could reach the taller man, Seonghwa took a step back. His body was tense, his hair stuck to his face from the water. On any other day, Hongjoong would have thought the sight of a soaked Seonghwa was extremely attractive – but this Seonghwa had a face of pure terror as he jerked away from Hongjoong. Therefore, instead of approaching the man further, he stayed a couple of steps away.

Seonghwa looked into Hongjoong’s eyes again, and the smaller man felt the same sense of being vulnerable, his mind and soul being explored. But as he looked back into Seonghwa’s eyes – really, really looked – he could see deep into _his_ soul, too. He saw pain. He saw sadness, anger, and fear.

“Seonghwa,” He said, still speaking loudly because of the rain, but no longer needing to shout. “Come inside with me, okay?” He tried to seem reassuring, reaching out his hand. Seonghwa looked at the other’s hand, but didn’t take it. His eyebrows were pushed together, his lips pushed together painfully so. Hongjoong wasn’t sure, because of how wet they both were, but it very much looked like Seonghwa was crying. “We… we can talk about it, okay?” Hongjoong took a step forward. Seonghwa stayed still, neither running away nor coming closer. “Please?” Hongjoong asked.

Seonghwa shook his head, although Hongjoong wasn’t quite quire what exactly he was saying no to. Was he saying no to talking? No to going back inside? No… to Hongjoong’s hand?

“P-please, Seonghwa.” Hongjoong repeated, pushing back his tears of pure anxiety. He knew he normally would rather die, but right now, he wasn’t below begging the other. He didn’t need to talk. He didn’t need to be inside. He just needed Seonghwa to be safe.

Seonghwa closed his eyes, bunching them up and bringing his fists to rub at them. He covered his face with the other hand, his tears mixing with the raindrops as his lips trembled. Hongjoong could feel his heart breaking at the sight, and despite his logic saying to maintain a distance, he closed the gap between them. He embraced Seonghwa’s torso, rubbing his back. He could feel the other hiccupping, gasping for air between his sobs and the drowning shower. Seonghwa’s legs seemed to give out, as he slowly made his way to a kneeling position on the ground, all the while Hongjoong did not let go. He kept comforting the other, whispering sweet nothings into his hear even though he had no idea if the other was listening. Seonghwa had started pulling at his own hair in distress, and Hongjoong had to pry his hands away and hold them to stop the elder from hurting himself.

But Seonghwa couldn’t bring himself to do anything. He couldn’t hold on to Hongjoong, he couldn’t say a word, he couldn’t even look at him any more. The memories of what he remembered – all the blood, so much death, and an unimaginable amount of self hatred. He thought about how even the only positive thing he had in his life, Hongjoong, would soon realise how he did not love Seonghwa as much as he thought.

They stayed like that for a while, embracing and shivering in the rain.

It must have been an hour before Hongjoong spoke again. By now, the rain had died down to a drizzle. There was still distant thunder, but it was a mere whisper compared to the previous bangs. He had been trying to think of what to say to someone who he knew was in so much pain, but he had no idea what was causing that pain. Whatever he had remembered must have been it. And whatever that was, neither San nor Seonghwa seemed keen on telling anyone.

But for now, Hongjoong didn’t need to know. He just needed to be safe, with Seonghwa. Inside, where it was warm and light.

“Seonghwa, you don’t have to speak. You don’t have to tell me what you remembered. Not now. Let’s… just go in. Let’s get into some dry clothes and sleep.” He said. They were both tired and uncomfortable. Hongjoon’s voice was soothing to Seonghwa, who was feeling numb after his long breakdown. Seonghwa slowly nodded, not saying a thing.

They clumsily made their way back to the house, almost tripping on several tree branches as they did so. Once they finally entered back in to the hall, everyone was waiting for them, clearly worried sick. Even San seemed to be concerned. But as several of them opened their mouths to ask what the fuck had happened, Hongjoong shot them a glare. Of course, he wasn’t angry with them, but was only warning them to shut the fuck up. They got the message pretty quickly, and Hongjoong proceeded to bring Seonghwa up to his room. He picked out some clean and dry pyjamas for the taller man to change into. He placed them on the bed, not letting Seonghwa out of his sight for the whole time.

“Seonghwa. Promise me… you won’t do anything stupid. You will get changed, sleep, and we will see each other in the morning and take it from there.” Hongjoong spoke to the other. Honestly, he wanted nothing more than to stay with the taller man, to comfort him, to hug him and caress his hair until he fell asleep and forgot his worries. But he also thought that perhaps Seonghwa needed to be alone.

Hongjoong gave him one more unreciprocated hug. It was only a little painful to not receive a reaction – any confirmation that Seonghwa appreciated it or that it helped. As Hongjoong started to let go of the other and head to his room, however, Seonghwa very softly held on to Hongjoong’s sweater. It was so soft that, had Hongjoong not been paying attention, he could have broken away without even noticing the gesture. But luckily, he had noticed. He looked up to Seonghwa’s face, which was still almost blank, except for his eyebrows furrowing the slightest bit.

“Or… I could go get changed, and come back?” Hongjoong suggested softly. Seonghwa didn’t nod or shake his head, but he also didn’t let go of Hongjoong’s sweater, so the smaller man understood. He quickly went to dry his hair and get changed before returning. He almost sprinted the whole time, worrying that the other might do something stupid again like going outside in the dead of night.

He entered Seonghwa’s bedroom again, and the older man was sitting on the floor at the foot of the bed. His knees were tucked into himself, so he was sat in ball. Hongjoong walked over and sat next to him. _Oh, how much more comfortable the bed would be,_ he thought, but didn’t say anything. Instead, he just sat close to the other man, and they shared body heat and sat in silence.

It must have been a while, because Hongjoong almost felt himself dozing off, when the other man suddenly spoke up. “Hongjoong.” The older man said, his voice hoarse from his emotional outbreak earlier. Hongjoong didn’t reply, but immediately woke up and gave the man his full attention. “You… didn’t love me.” Seonghwa told him, as if that was a fact. Hongjoong still didn’t respond, but felt utter confusion. “I’m a murderer. And you only stayed with me because you thought you would be in more danger if you didn’t.” He said, voice monotonous. He must have been feeling utterly numb as he said those words.

And suddenly, because of those words, everything came back. Hongjoong remembered many of the things Seonghwa had – their first meeting, that night he realised his life was in danger, and how they had decided to stick together. And abruptly, lots of other things made sense. He finally understood the background to their relationship. All those other memories he had – of camping together, of laughing, and of making love – all those dots finally connected into a bigger picture. Of course, that picture was still incomplete, but the general form could now be seen, and things were starting to become clear.

He frowned, but not at the memory. He didn’t feel devastation, nor utter shock like Seonghwa had felt, he only felt a sense of revelation. No – he wasn’t frowning at the memories. He was frowning at Seonghwa’s words. _‘you didn’t love me’_

“Seonghwa.” He said, voice a lot firmer than before. He turned to face the taller but currently more timid man. “Don’t you fucking dare say that I didn’t love you.” He said, fully serious. In fact, he could feel that he was even a little angry at the suggestion. “Don’t you dare.”

Seonghwa looked at the other, sensing the strong emotion coming from the other. Hongjoong suddenly grabbed the other man’s face, forcing him to look straight at him. He needed to show him that he was fully serious.

“Seonghwa. What the fuck. Of course I love you.” Seonghwa frowned, trying to shake his head, but Hongjoong held his face in place, knowing he was about to become incredibly stubborn. “No, stop that. I will not let you think for a moment that I stayed with you because I thought you would flip, or because I thought it was the only way for me to survive. Stop thinking that. Because it’s not true.” Seonghwa bit his lip as Hongjoong spoke, his eyes becoming moist again. “I love you, and I did then, too. Don’t you remember, how many times you told me that you’d protect me even if I pushed you away, even if I decided one day that I hated you? And yet, I still didn’t. Because I fucking love you.”

Hongjoong finally let go of the other’s face, knowing that he wouldn’t look away any more. Seonghwa’s breath was caught in his throat, as he tried his best to not cry again. Hongjoong continued talking, and he wouldn’t stop until he had hammered the truth into Seonghwa’s skull. “Besides, do you really think that I, who can’t act for shit, would pretend to love you? That I, a person who wears their emotions on their sleeve, wouldn’t make it blatantly obvious if I disliked you?”

Seonghwa thought about the answers to these questions for a while. He was still sceptical, unwilling to accept it so easily. But at the same time, he so desperately wanted to believe Hongjoong’s logical and forceful words. He was simultaneously too tired to argue, and so, after a long pause, he dropped his head in defeat.

“Now, Seonghwa. Get into bed. Let’s sleep, and tomorrow, we’re going to wake up, and we’re going to look out for each other, just like we did for all those months we spent running away from those people and finding safety. Just like that time we both got hurt in camping in the woods, and we both tended to each other’s wounds. Just like those nights when it was so cold, but we stuck to each other, and shared our body heat.” Hongjoong paused, before finishing. “And I will hear no more of that garbage about how I might not love you. Because, shut the fuck up, I do.” He said finally.

And so, that’s what they did. They slept in the same bed, facing each other as they dozed off. Seonghwa’s sleep was dreamless, whereas Hongjoong’s was full of memories of walking through the forest with Seonghwa, picking berries and cooking mushrooms.

-

The next day was a typical start. Wooyoung knocked on Seonghwa’s door, waking the two of them up to call them for breakfast. It was later than usual, and it seemed everyone had slept in, but they all gathered for their late meal. There were a few eyes of worry and curiosity as the two oldest men entered the dining room, but no questions were asked for now. Hongjoong knew that they should certainly tell the others soon – but for now, he just needed to be sure that Seonghwa was functioning on a basic level.

They all chatted about nothing for the breakfast, before all deciding to head to the library for the day. Some of them were reluctant, but Hongjoong had reared them all to sit together in the centre of the library, where there was a big table for them all to sit at. That way, they could chat lightly, monitor each other, and generally be less bored as they read. Jongho started listening to the audiobooks, although Hongjoong was silently wondering if he was listening at all, and not just day dreaming.

The leader of the group gave Seonghwa a pile of simple-to-read books. He doubted that anything important would be in the books from the teen romance section, and he still wanted Seonghwa to take it easy for the day. Everyone else, on the other hand, was neck-deep in textbooks, academic novels and complex poetry collections. He didn’t expect them to last all day, although he couldn’t help but feel a pinch of annoyance as Mingi and Yunho had already started to take a break after only half an hour of reading.

They clearly weren’t the academic types.

A few hours passed, and as a group they had managed to finish a small pile of books. The only ones who had managed to be actually consistent were Hongjoong and, surprisingly, Wooyoung. The others had taken regular breaks to chat, run around the library, and go collect more food from the dining room (they considered guarding the dining rooms a lost cause at this point). Well, all the others… apart from Seonghwa. It was obvious to Hongjoong that the man was only pretending to read, his mind clearly on other things. He hoped to god that he wasn’t trying to convince himself that their relationship wasn’t real again. But more than that, he desperately wanted to make sure Seonghwa wasn’t beating himself up over the crimes he had committed. He remembered now, that before coming to this island, so many times Seonghwa had confessed his disgust in himself, how he had nightmares about the times he had taken the life from others, and how he felt that he belonged in hell because of it. It always hurt Hongjoong to know that Seonghwa was hurting, but the best he could ever do was distract the other from those feelings.

Once everyone else had sat down again, Hongjoong was surprised when Seonghwa spoke.

“Hey, guys?” He said, not very loudly, but it caught everyone’s attention. “I think I owe you guys some explanations.” He said. Hongjoong looked at him, and slowly squeezed his thigh. Seonghwa looked back, and Hongjoong gave him a look, as if to ask him, ‘ _are you sure you want to tell them now?’_. Seonghwa nodded, still feeling vulnerable and numb, but certain that this needed to be done.

And so, he told them. He didn’t go into a hell of a lot of detail (nothing near how much Hongjoong knew), but he gave them the general story of his life – how he had been forced by the government to become their hitman, the fact that he had killed many, and how he had chosen to finally give up that life. At first, Seonghwa didn’t include the fact that he did so in order to protect Hongjoong, but the smaller man made sure that the others knew that detail.

Honestly, neither of the older men knew how the others would react. Perhaps they would scream in fear, or maybe judge Seonghwa for his past actions. Maybe they would even judge Hongjoong for falling for a man like that. But in reality, they were pretty quiet, and all seemed to be in deep thought even after Seonghwa had finished saying everything. Only after a long time did San break the silence.

“I also want to admit… In the basement, I remembered Seonghwa. I… accidentally saw him… uh, doing his job.” San said, almost choking on the words as he recalled the memory.

“Y-you’re… the one that saw me in the alleyway?” Seonghwa tried to confirm with the younger man, who nodded. “Do you remember anything after that?” He asked after realising San was the one his co-worker must have been after.

San shook his head, but still replied. “You saw me, then?”

“No. I had no idea you were there. My co-worker saw you.” Seonghwa said slowly, watching San’s face to see if the words triggered any new memories. “I don’t know much but… that co-worker was sent after you. I heard you gave them a hard time, though.” Seonghwa said. To be honest, he was suppressing a smirk at the idea that an untrained and innocent person could evade the likes of his highly skilled co-worker for months on end. And as San was sat right in front of him, speaking and breathing, Seonghwa felt reassured knowing that his co-worker had seemingly never caught up to the man.

San knew better, however. He couldn’t remember many details, but a vague sense of realisation came over him. He could vaguely remember running. He ran for a long, long time. He remembered sleeping in abandoned houses, and struggling to evade the evil he knew was following him. And most of all, he remembered the feeling of drowning, as the evil had finally backed him into a corner that he could not escape from.

The person had definitely found him.

But still, San stayed quiet. He couldn’t bring himself to tell everyone. Even though Seonghwa, Hongjoong, and even the others had told everything they knew, San was still reluctant. He felt almost selfish, actually. But still, something was stopping him. He could remember so much. In fact, by this point, he wasn’t sure there was that much more to remember – maybe only how exactly he was still alive after all of that. Yet, he couldn’t tell them. Not yet.

The others remained silent at the revelations that had been said aloud. Hongjoong could clearly see that a few of them wore expressions of worry. It was understandable – they had just found out that someone they were trapped with was trained to kill. In fact, Hongjoong even took a moment right then to go over the reasons why he was so unfazed with the fact himself. The answers to that, of course, were far soppier than he would ever admit outloud.

“Guys.” Hongjoong spoke up. “You’re not in danger. Not because of Seonghwa, anyway.” He reassured the others, putting on his leader voice. “The only danger right now… is staying on this island forever. We don’t know when that damn food will stop appearing, we don’t know when a disaster could strike, without any medical help. And more than that, we are in danger on this island because someone brought us here, and we still have no fucking clue who, how, or why.” He said clearly. He needed to remind them: Even if they were wary of Seonghwa now (which they needn’t be), he was not the one to be scared of. And while it took a while to convince everyone of that fact, the others all slowly began to agree. No, Seonghwa was not the enemy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> asdjfasd i'm sorry if there are typos - i tried editing, but i'm pretty tired so i might have missed a few mistakes!
> 
> anyways thank you all again so much for your kind and fun comments!!! nichxio, akdheiwjdbsl, seonghwazz, luzestelar, hvvaurora, haechans_squish, and taestythot, thank you all so much for your lovely and fun comments <3 u all really make me day~~ hopefully this chapter makes your day a bit better too!!


	7. The Grade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING FOR THIS CHAPTER!!!! if you are sensitive to things about mental health, which will be described in detail in this chapter, PLEASE STOP RIGHT NOW. this chapter is not for you. but, if you still want to continue reading this story without having to read many details about mental illness, i've also included a chapter summary in my notes at the end of the chapter!

The rest of that day was spent continuously reading through books, to no avail. Everyone was rather frustrated, knowing that their efforts may not even bring any prizes. It was barely even mid-afternoon before most of them were completely ignoring the task at hand, instead deciding to run around the library like hooligans. Hongjoong sighed, one of the only people left reading. He was slightly annoyed at their lack of concentration, but was glad that at least they seemed to have relaxed even after finding out about Seonghwa.

“You okay?” Seonghwa said quietly from beside him. Hongjoong nodded in reassurance.

“Fine. Just… bored. How ‘bout you?” He asked, having been worrying about the other man for a good while now. Seonghwa didn’t reply, but offered a small smile. It didn’t quite reach his eyes, and Hongjoong knew that the other must have been feeling exhausted from the overwhelming emotions he had been experiencing recently. Hongjoong patted the other on the shoulder comfortingly.

Meanwhile, Wooyoung was the only other one still working on the readings. Honestly, he felt surprisingly right at home. He heard the others all playing in the background, and knew that he kind of wanted to join, too, but somehow made himself keep going. He was currently reading an awfully boring record book with various articles about Korean politics, comparing the governmental system from before and after the Korean War. It was so dull, but somehow he was able to push through and try his best to spot anything of use. But, there was nothing. Not in this book, anyway. He’d have to try another.

He left the two oldest men to their small chit-chat, and went to the top floor of the library to put this book back in it’s place. That was the last book of that section, so now he could start a new topic. He looked to his left and saw the next subject: Psychology - the subject he had been studying at university. He browsed over the spines of the books, topics ranging from childrearing to brain surgery to criminology. He vaguely noted how he felt these books would be less terribly boring to read than the last few. Picking up the first three books on the shelf, he brought them all back to the table in the middle of the library, where everyone had come back to attempt to do their jobs again.

Wooyoung was a little proud of himself, to be honest. He remembered the fact that he had been a university student, but he didn’t remember how good he actually was at studying. Truthfully, for the last few days, he assumed that he had been the lazy type, not the type that could study for hours on end, preferring to go to parties every night and take part in extra curriculars instead. But today, he had found it pretty easy to concentrate and think. He couldn’t remember for sure, but maybe he _was_ the studious type.

The others, who had now returned to work, were mostly frowning at their books in a combination of confusion and boredom. Wooyoung, on the other hand, got to work straight away. The first book he started on was all about the fundamentals of Biological Psychology. He zoomed through the book in under an hour with no difficulty. In fact, he was pretty sure based on how familiar everything felt that he must have used this exact book for a class. He didn’t remember flashes of memories like the others – but he had a few hunches.

After continuing for even longer, he felt himself becoming sleepy. Maybe it was the quiet library atmosphere, or maybe because he had been sat on his ass for the whole day, but he slowly felt his eyelids becoming heavier, until they had closed completely. His face was pressed against the hard wooden desk, but his body knew that this was a common action of his – sleeping in the middle of studying, that is.

He dreamt. Again, they weren’t flashes of sudden memories like the others had experienced, but more like vague recollections. He remembered desperation and sleepless nights, he remembered being excited – or was it being nervous? And most of all – he remembered sadness. The dream consisted of waves of emotions paired with imagery of school, studying, classes, and homework. He felt a sense of excitement rush through his body as he stood in a dirty room with his family, holding a letter of acceptance to university. The scene didn’t change smoothly, but everything shifted, as if made of mist, into a scene at some university dorms. Wooyoung could see himself sitting at a desk, the sky outside dark and void of even the stars. That Wooyoung was hunched over, head pressing into a book on neuroscience as he slept. The room would have been nicer than the previous room, except for the fact that it was very, very messy. Scrunched up paper was thrown everywhere, and crushed cans of Red Bull hadn’t been put in the bin.

The scene shifted and warped again. He wasn’t sure where he was, but water was falling on him, like rain. But it wasn’t rain, because the water was hot. Maybe he was in a shower? But this time, he was in his own body – not just watching from afar. The strange thing was, though, that he wasn’t stood, but sitting on the cold floor as water hit it, bouncing back onto his own skin. The water was scalding his skin, which felt dry despite being underneath a stream of water, and water droplets felt down his face. He must have been here a long time. He should get out. He had things to do. But he couldn’t bring himself to move. And so, he sat there, underneath the water for what must have been an hour.

When Wooyoung woke up from his nap, he honestly had no idea if those scenes were memories or just dreams. They certainly felt realistic, even though they were vague and incomplete. And he had been studying at university, so his slumped over a desk wouldn’t be unrealistic, right? The man shrugged off the thoughts, figuring that if those dreams were real, he would be certain of them eventually, just as the others had.

-

And so, another day passed without much of note happening. By dinner time, they all decided to stop for the day and relax for the evening. Honestly, for all of them, they were starting to get into a routine. They would wake up to eat together, do some kind of task for the day, and relax in the evening. Everything was starting to become familiar and comfortable, as if they had been living here for months already. In reality, though, it had barely been a week.

They all headed to the game room for the evening again, deciding to take turns playing video games on the gaming system. Even Seonghwa, who had seemed so dead this morning, seemed to be enjoying himself. They played Mario Kart, and then Dance Dance Revolution again. They even tried some Karaoke game, which of course Jongho smashed everyone else in. Later in the evening, the peak excitement was reached when Mingi and Yunho played against Wooyoung and San in a Battle Royale-type shooting game. When San and Wooyoung won, they cheered so loudly that Hongjoong worried his eardrums might burst, and Yunho almost slammed the controller down in faux annoyance at Mingi’s mistakes during the game.

Everyone laughed, and everyone just seemed so happy. Even if they were all holding their own demons, they were all getting along. There were no negative thoughts, there was no urgency to get out of this place anymore. This place was simply somewhere that felt safe.

They all slept peacefully that night.

-

Yunho was the first to wake up the next day. His watch showed that it was much earlier than the time they would normally all eat together, so instead of going to wake the others up, he wondered around for a bit. First, he walked through some of the hallways to observe the artwork he hadn’t really looked at before. This place was truly well decorated, and although he didn’t know a lot about visual arts, he felt impressed none the less. His room, as he had now found out, was the only one with actual photographs inside. Specifically, they were of his family.

One framed picture was on top of his bedside stand, and showed him holding his baby sister after she had been born, when he was only 10. He looked so small, but he remembered that day clearly. There was another picture of his whole extended family on the dressing table, and another picture on the windowsill of him and his close family, which consisted of him, his two parents, and his two siblings. He could see all their smiles, and every time he looked at them, he was reminded of why he had to get off of this island.

He loved his family. His parents were getting old, and he needed to take care of them. His siblings were still studying, and he wanted to not only take that burden off of them, but also to care for them, too. It was what he did best. His family was the most important thing in his life.

After looking not only at the pictures in his own room, but also the paintings throughout the mansion, he returned to the basement. It was now only 5:30 a.m., so he still had time to waste. He hadn’t thought a hell of a lot about it since seeing the car, but on second thought… perhaps he should spend some time on it. Maybe if he went through the memory in detail, he could remember more.

And so, he stood in front of the car, as if facing an enemy. He was ready to fight, although he knew he didn’t have to. That car was fucked, and even if it had the ability to fight, it’d probably fall apart in one punch. Yunho stared at the car as he slowly went through the memory. It had been raining that day. No, not day. Evening. It was the evening, already getting dark. And it was raining.

He had seen the car. Only for a split second, he had seen it before he couldn’t remember any more. How did he get there, in front of the car? Jongho had spoken to him the other day about the fact that this car had been the one Yeosang was in before he apparently crashed. That only meant that Yeosang must have been in the car, which somehow ran into Yunho, and then crashed, right? He wanted to ask the quiet boy many questions, but the guy hadn’t said a single word out loud to him since the first day, when they had all said their names to each other.

But apparently he had spoken to Jongho about all of this. It kind of made sense, since they were sticking around each other so much, but he still thought the pair was strange. Yunho noted in his mind that he should make an effort to try and talk to Yeosang today. Maybe even if he couldn’t speak, he could write. Or if not, maybe he could somehow talk to the guy through Jongho… no, that would be weird. But he had to find some way to communicate with the other man. He might be able to remember more if he could.

But for now, it was still to early to bother everyone. He gave up staring at the car, and instead decided to take a stroll outside. Unlike two days earlier, when it had been absolutely pouring, the sky was now clear, blue and pretty. The sun was still low in the sky, having only recently risen, and so the shadows on the ground were long and bold. The light that did hit the trees and the house illuminated everything in an orange hue. The view was beautiful, and for a moment, Yunho forgot that this was not some kind of utopian holiday destination. No, this was somewhere they had been kidnapped to.

He took a stroll through the woods. He was originally planning to walk along the sea shore, and maybe watch the crabs in the rockpools, but something drew him away from the path and further into the woods, instead. Something about the woods was pretty enchanting, with the green moss growing everywhere, but the yellow rays of sun glowing through the gaps of the leaves and creating lines of light against the shadows of the moist forest.

His feet took him throughout the forest, and he was no longer worried about getting lost. He knew that he just needed to head up hill, and he would eventually reach the house again. Instead, he breathed in the fresh air and took in the scenery that he wasn’t sure he had ever seen back in Korea.

He eventually reached the tree from the painting. He stopped as he noticed it, only a few metres away, and creaked his neck upwards to look towards the top of the colossal thing. He barely noticed at first, as it looked completely natural, but just like the painting this tree had started to blossom. Several branches were practically overflowing with petals, and others had only a few flowers blooming. Yunho counted eight total branches, each of which could have been their own individual tree if they were cut off of the huge trunk.

It was strange, though. He didn’t know much about plants, but didn’t they usually bloom evenly on trees? Why was this tree so bare in some places, and so packed with flowers in others? Curious, Yunho circled the tree, trying his best not to trip over the countless roots sticking up above the ground. He didn’t know why, but he felt a small urge to climb the tree. He had to stop himself, knowing that it was a bad idea without the presence of others to catch him if he fell.

As he had walked halfway around the tree, he noticed something near the base of the tree, at about waist height. He had to get closer and climb over roots to see what it was – an etching. There was now something carved into the tree, and it looked relatively fresh. Had that been there before? It was possible, although he was pretty certain the others had walked around the tree before, but perhaps they had missed the etching.

He finally got close enough to see what exactly it was.

“REMEMBER” Just that word was roughly cut into the bark of the tree.

-

As soon as everyone was gathered for breakfast that morning, Yunho announced his discovery. As expected, the others were as confused as he felt, and after eating a little, they all headed outside to check it out. All of them were gathered around the tree, staring at the word speechlessly.

“I… Definitely didn’t see that when we first saw the tree.” Wooyoung spoke up when no one else said a word. A few others nodded, having also seen the tree without these etchings.

“Are you sure you didn’t just miss it?” Hongjoong suggested, but Wooyoung shook his head.

“It’s pretty obvious – I doubt that anyone would miss that, right?” He looked at San and Yeosang, who had also seen the tree those days ago. Everyone agreed in silence – this carving must be new.

“So… they left us a message?” Seonghwa mumbled to himself.

“Do they think we aren’t _trying_ to remember?” Mingi said with annoyance. “I haven’t remembered a thing, and they think it’s my fault? I’m trying here!” He said, and San had to pat his shoulder to stop him from shouting too loudly.

“Maybe it’s just a reminder.” Hongjoong said to the group, his chin being held by his pointer finger as he was deep in thought. Although this was starting to feel like the norm, he still had many questions. First of all, who made the etching? Second of all, why on this tree, and not just a simple note or something? And last of all, why were they leaving this particular message?

Hongjoong felt uneasy as he thought about it more. He remembered yesterday – how comfortable they all felt, how they had barely even thought about trying to escape anymore, and how happy and without a worry they had been while going to sleep. Did this person know how they were feeling? But, how would they know something as personal as that? It’s not like they had said to each other, ‘Hey guys, I’m pretty happy here, and not so desperate to find a way out anymore’.

“Anyway, I wanna climb it.” Yunho interrupted the others who were all in thought.

“Isn’t that kinda dangerous?” Jongho said, doubt in his voice.

“Yeah… that’s why I waited for you guys to wake up! If I fall you can catch me!” He said, clearly feeling very proud of his idea. Hongjoong almost felt bad for crushing his hopes. Almost.

“No. That’s dangerous. If you get far up and fall, we won’t be able to catch you. You’ll fucking die.” Hongjoong said a little harshly, not considering for even a second that any of them should climb up.

“But I think there might be something up there!” Yunho started, and Hongjoong lifted one eyebrow to show that he was listening. “I… just get that feeling.” He said dejectedly, having no real proof that climbing this beast would bring anything good. “I don’t know, maybe more etchings, or another key in one of those holes like Seonghwa found the other day!” Hongjoong sighed, because he knew the feeling all too well on this island. That feeling that you needed to do something, even though there was no real reason or logical explination. Like when he had been drawn to the berry bushes and remembered his job, or when he followed his feet to find Seonghwa in the rain the other night. But that was different. He wasn’t really in danger then. But this was just stupid.

“Maybe we can make some kind of harness?” Wooyoung suggested, trying to find a common ground between them.

“Do you know how to make a harness? One that actually works and is safe?” Hongjoong asked, and Wooyoung shook his head.

“Or I could just climb up to the first branch – even if I fall from there, nothing too bad will happen!” Yunho exclaimed. Hongjoong considered this – it was true, at worst he may sprain an ankle if he fell from that height. It wasn’t that dangerous. Hongjoong frowned at the other, his stern face showing so obviously.

“Fine. Do that. But once you get there, you absolutely cannot go up any higher. Not until we’re figured out a way to stop you falling, or a safe way for you to come down.” He said, no ifs and no buts. Yunho nodded, as if taking an order from his mother, and proceeded to get to work.

The tree was knobbly, and the many hollows inside made it look deceivingly possible to climb. But in reality, it was like rock climbing. The steep vertical angle and the spaced-out holes made it particularly difficult to both hold on to something with your hands, as well as step on to another thing with your leg. Yunho was struggling, and it was clear - after only a few seconds, he fell to the ground. It looked a little painful the way he fell, but it probably wouldn’t even leave a bruise, considering how close he was to the floor. And so, the tallest man tried again. And again. And again. But no matter where he started, or where the others told him to place his feet, he kept falling. It was like an impossible jigsaw, and even though Hongjoong was pretty sure their teamwork was decent, they somehow couldn’t coordinate the movement of Yunho’s limbs to match where they wanted him to go.

So, San tried next. He had a smaller body, but he was very flexible and athletic in his build, and actually ended up getting higher than Yunho had on just his first go (he managed to get to a height of one metre). However, while he had successfully placed his feet and arms where the others suggested he did, it turned out to be less useful than they had originally thought. It was a puzzle that they were truly struggling to solve. Not only that, but the more they looked at the tree, the more complex it seemed to become. Even though they didn’t see the tree literally move, their vision was filled with holes and stubs so much that they might as well have been moving.

After a couple of hours, in which Wooyoung, Mingi and Yeosang also attempted to climb the tree (to no avail), Hongjoong decided that they ought to split up. Those library books weren’t going to read themselves. And so, Hongjoong, Seonghwa, Jongho and Wooyoung returned to the library, reasoning that Jongho was of much more help listening to audiobooks, and the other three were the only people able to read for more than twenty minutes without dying of boredom.

And so, they all carried on with their tasks for the day. Inside, the four men made a good dent in the pile of books remaining in the library. Seonghwa was getting through the simple yet boring books, Jongho the audiobooks, and Hongjoong the classical literature. Wooyoung was still tackling the Psychology section, and had now finished one shelf of the entire Psychology bookcase.

Next up was all about Neuroscience. He didn’t know why, but something about that sub-section of the bookcase was making him feel tense. He forced himself to pick up a couple of the books, figuring he must have particularly disliked this part of his major. That thought was confirmed as he read through the first book, and struggled to understand even some of the key concepts. It was weird, because he had so easily read through all the other topics, but this one just seemed like nonsense to him. How the fuck was he supposed to remember the names of all the different neurotransmitters? And why was it that half the studies used didn’t prove anything?!

He had to remind himself halfway through the book that no, he did not need to remember all this stuff. Maybe when he got back to his normal god damn life, yes, but right now, he was just looking for any clues or hints about this island, or maybe something to trigger his memory. And, well, it certainly _was_ bringing back some unpleasant feelings.

He flipped through the last chapter, almost ready to throw the book out of the still broken window in the library. But he didn’t, and instead picked up the next book. It was another textbook supposedly teaching the fundamentals of neuropsychology. The glossy cover looked slightly used, and the weight felt familiar in Wooyoung’s hands. He sighed, wanting to get through this section of books quickly and move on to another topic, and so he opened the book.

As he read through each chapter, still barely understanding anything, a few memories came back to him. They came back gradually rather than in a flash, so he had no moment of clarity. Only a slow realisation as to what had led to him being here.

He remembered his first day at university. He was enthusiastic, ready to study, to make new friends and make new experiences. His new home – a room in student dorms – was honestly a step up from his old, run-down and dirty home. It was clean, for one, but also had a comfortable bed and 24/7 hot water! He had met all his flatmates, and was excited for his first few classes.

He was here on a big scholarship, determined to make a better life for himself and his family. He didn’t want his parents to live in that house any more – he wanted to help them live the last years of their life in comfort. The best way to do that was to get an education – so that he could have a good job, and provide for his family. Maybe… he could even bring his best friend, San, along with him? Visions of him and San having fun together in his hometown came to his memory. That’s right - he and San had known each other. And he was in university, so far from home, ready to turn his and his loved one’s lives around.

But only a few weeks later, that positivity was starting to come apart. It was his neuropsychology class that he couldn’t understand a word of. No, it wasn’t just that. It was also the lessons about classical psychology – all those Freudian theories that made absolutely no sense. And he had a presentation – one that was proving to be so much more difficult than he had anticipated. And he missed his parents so dearly. He tried to video call them daily, and while he felt a desperate need to see their faces, it only made his stress worse. _I need to study in advance for neuropsychology class. I should be preparing slides for the presentation. I need to finish the essay. I have so much work to do._ Those thoughts kept running through his mind as he spoke to his parents, and he was so conflicted. He wanted to see them, to be with his parents again, but the more time he spent doing those things, the more behind on work he would get.

As Wooyoung read the book without break, he eventually remembered what happened by the end of the first semester. He had taken some tests, for which he had studied for sleepless nights, and he was getting those papers back. He needed a 70% to get a first-class average in this university. And he could not settle for anything less than a first class. Not if he wanted to get the best job possible, and the best life possible.

He calmed down his breathing before lifting the corner of the paper that was on the table up. He was nervous, and many around him had already looked at their own grades. They all seemed pleased – they were congratulating each other, breathing sighs of relief, and even chatting about going out to celebrate already. Wooyoung lifted the paper to see his marks.

He had an average of 64%.

The Wooyoung in the library remembered the emotions his past self felt at that time. He felt like the only person in the room who wasn’t happy. Despite the fact that he knew he must have been one of the most hard working ones there, he got such a mark. For him, it wasn’t enough. For him, it wasn’t even close to his goal of 70%. Even though this grade didn’t count towards much, the fact that he had gotten this result after such hard work devastated him.

He had returned to his dorm that night and cried for the whole evening. He couldn’t bring himself to eat, and instead forced himself to read those textbooks he had poured himself over. He couldn’t see the words, his tears blurring his vision. How could he let himself slip like this? How could he be so stupid? And most of all, how could he ever believe that he could make it here? Those other people all seemed fine. They must have all gotten great grades. Which meant he must be the worst in class. Right?

Everything started to go downhill from that point. Not only did he now have added pressure to study even harder for classes, but on top of that, an enhanced sense of self hatred. Each day passed, the same as the last – he would go to class, study in between those classes, come back home and study, eat if he remembered, and go to sleep. It was an endless cycle, and his grades were barely improving. In fact, even when they did, he felt no satisfaction from it any more. He only saw the mistakes, the few marks he was away from the next grade up, only the criticisms given by his teachers.

And he learnt to pent up those emotions and frustrations. He learnt to not show them, because whenever he showed his worries about his grades, people brushed them away. They told him that he shouldn’t be worried, that it wasn’t so bad. But they were only trying to help him feel better without actually helping, or they just thought that Wooyoung was being dramatic. He knew it. So, he didn’t show those emotions to others. He became emotionless during the day, writing essays, reading books and practicing exam questions until his stomach felt like it would shrivel up from hunger. Only then did he go back to his student room, now a mess with notes thrown everywhere, spilled food that he didn’t have time to clean, and bedding that hadn’t been washed in weeks.

It was here that the emotions would come back to him, almost as if he kept them locked in this room that he would have to return to every evening. The time not spent eating, sleeping, or doing more studying was spent hating himself. He would remind himself of all the times he messed up, all the mistakes he made. All the times someone looked at him strangely, and all the times he said something wrong. Sometimes he punched his wall until his knuckles bled in anger at himself, and sometimes he dug his nails into his skin just to feel something other than shame.

As he was reaching the end of the textbook, he remembered the last day before he came to this island. He had received his results from the end-of-year exams that day. Those grades that actually counted towards the final grade of his degree.

An average of 62%.

His mind was blank after he saw those results. He spent the rest of the day during classes completely shut off, not thinking at all. And when he got home in the evening, instead of facing his emotions like he thought he would, he felt the same. He was numb. His mind was still empty. He sat down on the floor, in front of the radiator, which was turned on high. It was the time of year that shouldn’t be so cold, but somehow he felt so chilly these days. Maybe it was the lack of food. Or maybe his body was just becoming like how he felt – dead.

He must have sat there for hours before his body started to move on it’s own accord. He saw his arms moving, but he honestly wasn’t even sure if he was the one controlling them anymore. His arms opened his bedside drawer and took out his toiletries bag. They searched for only a short while before finding what they wanted – his shaver. The one he usually used to get rid of the fluff on his face. His mind was still blank, not really registering what was happening as his body took him into the shower with the shaver, which was weirdly easy to pick apart. He picked each individual blade out and placed them next to him, just outside the shower, on the floor. Only one remained in his fingers, and he was holding onto it so tightly that his fingers started to bleed. Only a little.

Before he knew it, or could fully comprehend what he was doing, his shower floor was covered in red, his blood being washed down the drain as his vision started to blur, and his eyes started to close.

Wooyoung only stopped reading the textbook as he was sat in the library when a tear fell suddenly, from his face and onto the book on the table. He hadn’t noticed that he had started crying, so he reached to feel his face to make sure the droplet came from him.

“Wooyoung?” Seonghwa’s soft and caring voice called from the opposite side of the square table, having noticed Wooyoung’s movement. The younger man looked up to meet eyes filled with concern. “Are you okay?”

Wooyoung took a moment to think. Was he okay? A couple of hours ago, before he read this book, the answer would have been yes, he was absolutely fine. Just yesterday, he had been having the time of his life playing with his friends. He was more than fine. Just this morning, he felt happy. But now… he wasn’t sure. He didn’t realise he had been carrying all these burdens. Honestly, this whole stranded-on-an-island situation seemed trivial in comparison to those memories. He felt as though the part of himself he had been searching for all this time had finally returned. But at the same time, now that he met this part, he wanted nothing but to forget again.

He couldn’t answer Seonghwa’s question, because he didn’t know the answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY SO. a kinda longish chapter note here. i hope this chapter was ok for you guys. i include mental health stuff in a few fics i've written, but i always strive to not glorify it, because i know that's wrong. in fact, by the end of the story i hope that i can spread a positive message about it! 
> 
> again, sorry about taking a whole week to write this chapter. i'm super busy but i promise i'm working a little bit on this story every single day!! 
> 
> thank you as always for all the lovely comments. hvvaurora, Kristellaix, haechans_squish, taestythot, luzestelar, AnnaFloralberg, and leetaeyongs, ty so much , y'all really make my day T_T <3
> 
> lastly, for anyone who chose not the read the chapter, but still wants to continue with the story, here's a short summary: Yunho found a message 'remember' engraved on a tree, and wants to climb it. Wooyoung remembers that he struggled with his mental health at university and remembers attempting suicide.


	8. The Code

Several days passed by. The men searched the library for books, tried to climb the tree, and spent time with each other. For some of them, it was all in an effort to try to find an escape, but for others, these activities were merely a distraction from the truths they had managed to remember. Wooyoung at the time preferred to immerse himself in this island’s puzzle than to think about the riddle of his life. Seonghwa preferred to take orders and be useful than to remember the times he had caused harm to others. San preferred to have fun with the others each evening, a pleasure he had little time to experience back in his real life.

Yunho, on the other hand, was enthusiastically searching for any new clues. He knew he wasn’t the most intelligent of the bunch, but he liked to think he was a good motivator, and someone who could perform physical tasks well. Every night, as he fell asleep next to his family’s pictures, he hoped that he might see them again soon. Jongho, too, was eager to return to his life – he had so many goals, so many dreams that he hadn’t fulfilled yet, and even if he could now remember that his life hadn’t been the easiest, he still wanted to return.

So, they had created and were sticking to their new routine. Eat together, work for the day to no avail, and play in the evening. Rinse and repeat.

It was during one of their evening hang out sessions that anything of note happened again, several days later. In the game room, it seemed as if the amounts of games were endless. Even though the room was an average size, it was almost an infinite amount of games. To be honest, they would probably be entertained for centuries with the number of games available.

While they all discussed which game they should play that night, Yunho pretty randomly picked up the disk for a computer game. It looked like a fairly old puzzle game, with both single player and multiplayer modes. They had mostly been sticking to new computer games, arcade games and board games, so this old game would be a unique experience. The graphics were incredibly pixelated on the huge screen, but the game was still fun nonetheless because the puzzles were unique, and the jokes told by the characters pretty funny. It was just one of the few games they tried out that evening, but that was the one that left an impression on one of the men. Mingi went to bed that night, unable to sleep as the images of the friendly game spun around his head. After what must have been several hours of trying to sleep, he tossed the bed covers off and stormed back downstairs. It was a wonder he hadn’t woken anyone else up on the way.

He knew that that game in particular was bothering him. He kept wondering what happened next in the story, how he could solve the next puzzle. It was strange, because he hadn’t felt this invested in any of the other games they had played, and it wasn’t like this one was outstanding in any way. However, he couldn’t get his mind off of it. He hence started playing the game alone, and whilst doing so didn’t think too much about it, because his mind was filled with wonder about the game. He vaguely assumed that perhaps the game could remind him of something in his past, but didn’t want to get his hopes up.

And so, he pulled an all-nighter. He stayed up for hours playing the game, not bothering to turn on the ceiling lights as the screen was so large that it flooded the whole room with light. His eyes would be fucked, that’s for sure, but he didn’t really care. Instead, he followed the story, using the controller to defeat enemies, unlock doors and solve mysteries. Each of the unlockable characters had their own side mystery, all of which needed to be solved before they could reach the finale of the game to defeat the final boss. As he played, his fingers moved around the keyboard and controls almost reflexively, as if he had done these exact actions many times before. He was too invested in the game to realise that he had, indeed, played this exact game once before.

As he finished each character’s mystery successfully, he entered the finale. The final mystery was a locked room; a door with a padlock, requiring a password to enter. The clues he had were escape-room style clues; coded inscriptions, calculations to make, and visual information to process. He had to use all of his brain power to figure it out, which was strenuous considering it was now 7 a.m., and he knew he wasn’t that bright in the first place. He almost scoffed when he figured out the answer, which seemed both obvious and incredibly abstract at the same time, even with the clues he had been given. He input the password, 8M1, and the door unlocked. Finally, the characters had defeated the monsters, escaped, and could go back to their rainbow-coloured pixelated lives.

As the rolling credits ran, Mingi felt a strange lack of satisfaction. Honestly, he had been expecting something. A clue. A memory, maybe. But he didn’t get that. He felt that the ending of the game wasn’t even climactic, to be honest. He had spent hours fighting monsters, solving mysteries and becoming involved in the character’s stories, only to end the game by opening a door? What a boring ending. And yet, something still bothered him. Not just the unsatisfactory ending, but he couldn’t help but feel that he had missed something important. But that wasn’t possible – he had paid attention the whole time, right?

A little annoyed at himself for staying up all night for this, he chucked the controller onto the couch and took a nap there.

-

That day, they searched the house in a panic when Mingi hadn’t shown up for breakfast. Of course, Hongjoong shouted at the younger man and Yunho bounced in glee when they found him safe and sound in the game room. The day then proceeded as usual; Yunho, Yeosang, San and Mingi tackled the task of climbing the tree, and the others took to the library.

In the woods, they tried again and again to no avail. They tried different things – climbing on each other’s shoulders, using a makeshift pole to attempt vault jumps (they had a few bruises from this), and they even tried using some of the tools they had found throughout the island to dig new holes into the tree and make some steps for themselves. However, when they tried that, the sharp tools never penetrated the bark – it was almost as if the tree was indestructible.

They took a break after a while of trying. Mingi seemed a bit out of it – he had admitted to the others that he hadn’t slept last night, and so he laid down on the grassy ground and closed his eyes.

“I’ll just rest my eyes for a minute.” He said sleepily, and the others chuckled, knowing that unless they woke him up themselves, he would most likely snooze there all day. San, being the energetic man he was, took off to the mansion for the toilet instead of taking a break.

“Can’t you just pee in the bushes?” Yunho suggested, having done so himself a few times already.

“Uh… I don’t need to pee.” San admitted, avoiding eye contact and blushing a little. Immediately, Yeosang and Yunho understood, and let him go to the mansion. If anything, aside from wanting to laugh, they felt grateful. They didn’t want to be walking through the woods only to step in some… excrements.

And so, Yunho and Yeosang had been left alone (well, Mingi was still there, but he was already snoring away, so in spirit they were indeed alone). That was the first time they were alone together. It was a little awkward, but Yunho barely noticed, his mind racing instead. He had been hoping for a moment with the other man to ask him some questions… not that he expected any answers.

“Yeosang?” Yunho said. Yeosang lifted his head from where it was rested against a tree and looked at the taller man. “Y-your car was the one that crashed into me… right?” Yeosang nodded slowly, frowning a little as he recalled the memories. “I… only remember the crash. I don’t remember, like, what I was doing. Or what I was thinking. So… I was hoping that maybe you could tell me anything you remember?” He said, bracing himself for no reply, or complete rejection. He didn’t want to push the other too far, but to be honest he didn’t know what ‘too far’ was with him, and he really, really wanted to remember more.

The shorter boy sighed, closing his eyes and looking away from the taller man. And then, very, very quietly, he replied.

“I was going to a concert.” His voice was straining a little, even to this volume, and Yunho hung on to every word. “And we crashed into a building.” He said, and Yunho waited for more, but didn’t get anything. Hm. This guy sure was concise. He would need more detail.

“Okay. Um… do you remember seeing anything? On the street or something?” Yunho probed, and the other man looked at the floor in concentration. He was trying to remember.

“It was raining heavily. And… I saw you. A tall figure. But only for a second.” He said, taking his time to say each word. Yunho gave him more time to think and remember. “I think you were crying.” Yeosang looked at the other again. Yunho considered this, but it didn’t make sense.

“Wasn’t it just the rain on my face, or something?” Yunho suggested, but Yeosang shook his head.

“No. Your expression was one of crying.” He said, not sure if it completely made sense. He remembered seeing Yunho’s face, but it wasn’t smiling as usual. Instead, it was distorted, sobbing. His teeth were clenched, his mouth open and his eyebrows expressing his deep hurt. He had only seen the other for a split second, but had definitely seen that distraught expression. Yeosang could have said that all to explained what he meant… but he couldn’t bring himself to. It didn’t matter anyway, because Yunho nodded in understanding, and seemed to look into himself, withdrawing from the conversation. He was likely trying to remember how he felt – or why he felt like that.

They sat there in comfortable silent thought as they waited for San to return.

And suddenly, Mingi shot up from his sleeping position, making the other two jump in surprise.

“I need to go to the library.” He suddenly said, getting up and stomping ahead. The two clueless men looked at each other before following.

-

Meanwhile, the men in the library were mostly working hard. They were gradually reading through each and every book. To be honest, Seonghwa felt as if his head was spinning from looking at so many words recently. He definitely hadn’t read this much in his life. But, when his mind flashed to what he _did_ usually do in his life, he would suddenly be glad that reading was all he had to do now.

And suddenly, the library door flung open, slamming against the wall loudly. The four quiet workers swung their head around to see what was going on, and Mingi was leading the group inside the library. San had joined them by this point, as he had passed by them in the hallway on his way back from the toilet. Although, Mingi was the only one without a confused expression on his face.

“Mingi – what’s wrong?” Yunho was holding on to the determined looking man’s arm. But the other didn’t answer and was ignoring everyone else as they all got up to try and see what was going on.

He headed towards the desks in the centre of the library – the ones with the padlocks and safes installed into them. Everyone gathered around him, watching as he crouched down and inspected the devices. He looked carefully at the place he needed to input the code for a second before starting to twist the numbers and letters around. There required 12 characters to be input – a lot, and if it had been as little as 3 or 4, they could have just tried every possible combination. But with this many, that task was impossible, considering the numbers 0-9 as well as all 26 letters could be used.

But miraculously, Mingi input the code, a repeating sequence of ‘8M1’. As soon as he input the last 1, a clicking noise was heard. The door flung open, pushing Mingi onto his butt. Everyone watched in confusion and intrigue as they peered into the now open safe. A bright light was coming out of the safe, and those standing close enough could feel a cold air escaping the container.

Mingi shifted himself towards it, feeling the cold against his skin. The interior was white and clean. A fridge. Why the hell was there a fridge attached to a desk? None of them knew. But what they saw on those fridge shelves were various bottles and boxes with medical words written on them.

Now, Mingi remembered.

-

The others had no idea what was going on. They had no idea how he knew that combination, or what significance those medication bottles had to Mingi. They had no idea why he suddenly began to withdraw from them the moment he saw them. The tall man was now sat on the ground in front of the still-open fridge, various medication bottles having been picked up and scattered on the floor. The others had tried asking, to understand what was going on, but Mingi hadn’t replied to a single thing. He had only stared at each container for a while, chucked it on the floor and picked up another, until the fridge way empty.

Honestly, he looked to be in shock. Most of them had realised pretty soon that the contents of this fridge must have triggered some kind of memory for Mingi. And most of them assumed, based on the man’s reaction, that the memories were not pleasant.

“Mingi… please tell us what you remember.” Yunho was practically begging, tugging on the unresponsive man’s arm. But he didn’t say a thing. He simply stared at the fridge and the medicines.

“Maybe we should let him process his thoughts for a while…” Hongjoong said, sounding uncertain himself. He certainly didn’t want to leave the man alone, but also didn’t want to push him to say anything right this moment. Surely, if Mingi stayed in the library where they all were, nothing bad would happen, right?

Everyone eventually agreed. Some of them grabbed some books to carry on reading, but no one was really in the mood for reading any more. After all, part of the reason they had been reading the books was for a clue for that combination, right? And now they had the right code. Was there another reason to read through more of the books? If there was, they had forgotten about it in this moment.

“Yunho.” The tallest man’s name was called after a long time of utter silence in the library. It startled him, but he quickly rushed over to Mingi, where the call had come from.

“Yeah?” He approached the man, who was still sat on the floor. Mingi paused before replying, not looking the other in the eye, his own gaze still being a world away.

“We knew each other.” Mingi said. Yunho waited for the other to continue. “We were friends.” He said after another pause. “I….” Mingi closed his eyes, frowning as if in pain. “I knew you through your sister. I met her first, and then I met you, and we became friends…” Mingi said. Yunho was grateful for the information, but at the same time he was worried – was remembering hurting the other in some way? Why did he seem to be so unhappy at the memory?

Yunho thought as the silence continued. Did he remember meeting Mingi? Yes… he did now. They had indeed met. He remembered chatting to the other… no, mostly they played online games together. That was right. They had met in real life, but they became good friends through their common interest in online multiplayer games.

Mingi had said they met through his sister… how did that happen? Yunho couldn’t remember. How did they meet? Was Mingi his younger sister’s tutor or something? No, Mingi didn’t seem like the studious type. His sister was a few years younger than Mingi, so what other way would they have met? Yunho racked his brains, but couldn’t find anything.

“Do you remember how we met?” Mingi was looking at him finally, giving direct eye contact, hope showing clearly on his face. Yunho shook his head, and Mingi’s expression turned from determined to pained again.

“W-what? What happened when we met?” Yunho probed. The library was still silent, and he was sure that the others were eavesdropping. Mingi looked away and shook his head.

“You… you’ll remember eventually.” He dismissed the other. Honestly, that annoyed Yunho a little – did he knew something else? Something about what happened to Yunho before the car accident? But even though he felt annoyance, he couldn’t bring himself to snap at the other man, who was clearly already suffering.

“Everyone.” Mingi suddenly called out in a much bolder voice. Everyone turned their heads, as if they hadn’t been trying to listen to what they were saying already.

“Are you… okay?” Wooyoung asked, dropping his book immediately and rushing over. Everyone else soon followed, and they had all crowded around the other man.

“No. And… I don’t think any of us are.” Mingi said. His body was stiff, as if he wasn’t used to the attention. And it was true – he hadn’t really taken the lead in the group at all, preferring to be a follower. Everyone looked on in confusion, and Mingi took a deep breath. “I think we’re all dead.”

His words were met with silence. Some of the others were utterly confused at the statement, and the others were deep in thought. A few of them had certainly considered the possibility… but was it possible?

“W-what are you talking about?” Wooyoung replied after minutes. “I’m alive. I’m right here. We’re right here.” He said, gesturing to himself and everyone else.

“You remembered yourself, right? Did you not remember dying? And then, immediately after, waking up here?” Mingi said pointedly. Wooyoung was startled at the somewhat correct accusation. He grabbed the fabric of his shirt near his chest, his heart beating fast.

“I think he might be right.” Yeosang spoke up, and everyone took a moment to get over the shock that the man was finally talking to them. What he was saying was far more important than the fact that he was saying it. “I was in a car crash. Yunho was in the same car crash. Jongho fell down the stairs. It looks like Mingi… you also remember?” He looked at Mingi, who nodded in confirmation.

“But – no! I don’t remember dying. I remember something, yes… but not _dying_. And, besides, what about the others? Seonghwa and Hongjoong have remembered everything, but not a death!” He looked to the eldest of the group for help. They were both deep in thought.

“That’s right… We don’t remember dying.” Hongjoong admitted. “But… we don’t remember what happened right before we came here.” He added, and Seonghwa nodded.

“Besides… we were in a very dangerous situation. We faced death almost daily…” Seonghwa said with a pained expression, and Wooyoung turned to his last hope.

“S-San? You don’t remember something like that, right?” Wooyoung practically begged, but the other replied only with silence. “No way. You- you haven’t said anything. You-”

“There might be… something like that.” San admitted, crushing the other man’s hopes.

“But aside from that… it makes no sense.” Seonghwa spoke before Wooyoung could say something too emotionally charged. “So you’re suggesting this is some kind of afterlife?” Seonghwa asked Mingi.

“I… don’t know about that.” He hung his head low.

“I don’t know what you guys believe about the afterlife, but I have my own, having sent so many to it in the past.” Seonghwa frowned, unhappy to talk about the lives he had taken. “I don’t believe this is it. I… would not be in an afterlife like this, if an afterlife does exist.” Everyone thought about this for a moment, trying to understand what he meant. Of course, he was insinuating that he believed that if an after life _did_ exist, he would be going to hell, or whatever its equivalent was.

“Well… that’s if you believe in heaven and hell, or karma, or those kinds of things. But… we don’t know for sure what the afterlife is like. Maybe there is no such thing as heaven and hell, or karma, or maybe there is no such thing as good and evil… at least not to the afterlife.” Jongho said. His suggestion was met with thoughtful silence, so he continued to explain. “Maybe the afterlife is nothing like what any of us have been taught. After all, there’s no way for any humans to know, right? All the religions, all the belief systems, even people who don’t believe in the afterlife… no one can know absolutely, for sure. So, even if this isn’t what we expected… what’s so say this _isn’t_ the afterlife?” Jongho said. Although he felt utterly terrified at the thought inside, his voice was still strong.

The others thought through his words. It was confusing… but maybe it made sense?

“But by that logic…” Hongjoong spoke up. “By that logic, what’s to say this _is_ the afterlife?” He asked, and Jongho frowned, a little confused at the question. “If we agree that the afterlife is unknowable… what’s to say this is the afterlife? Maybe it’s some kind of alternate universe, or maybe our consciousnesses have been uploaded onto some advanced technology in the future. Hell, maybe we are just the creations of some advanced race, given sentience to make this fucked up story seem more realistic for their viewing pleasure. From what we have, we can’t know that the afterlife is more likely than those options, or any other absurd-sounding possibility, right?”

To be honest, some of the others were already lost at this point.

“But… for all those who _do_ remember the moments before we came here, it all involves dying…” Yeosang said. Wooyoung shot him a glare. “Maybe not dying. But _probably_ dying.”

“No, I… feel alive. I’m alive.” Wooyoung was furrowing his eyebrows and clenching his fists, trying to hold back tears. Memories of blood, numbness and self hatred flashed across his mind. But despite all of that, he felt so very alive right now. He felt his nails digging into his palms, and he felt his heart hurting as he imagined the idea that he might be dead, he felt the lump in his throat as he tried to not cry. “I’m not dead.” He said, matter-of-factly.

“But even if we’re not dead… I think we’re definitely not in the same world we were all in before.” Mingi said. The others looked to him inquisitively, wondering how he knew that. “That would be impossible. In that world, I… shouldn’t be able to stand. I shouldn’t be able to eat with you guys, to walk around the island and have fun all day. That… wasn’t possible in that world.” He said, a little quieter now.

Everyone felt just a little more miserable after hearing that, if it was even possible to become more miserable in this moment. He hadn’t said outright… but that description and the fridge full of medication alone said it all. Mingi must have been living with some kind of serious illness or disability. Something that meant he couldn’t walk or do any activity for long. Something that meant he hadn’t had many experiences in life – hence why he seemed to confused doing even some of the most mundane of things.

-

The group hadn’t said much more to each other after that. They didn’t really eat much dinner, either. They all had a lot to think about. Not one of them knew exactly what to believe, or how to figure out any answers. On top of that – was it even possible for them to understand and accept the truth, if someone (or something) told them that truth?

“What do you think about all of… _this_?” Hongjoong sighed as he sat down in his bed next to Seonghwa that evening. The older man had barely said a word after the conversation in the library, clearly deep in thought. The dark-haired man also sighed before embracing the shorter man and speaking.

“I… don’t know. Like you said, I doubt it’s possible for us to know. But… do you think it’s possible to get out of… wherever we are?” Seonghwa said. His brain was in a complete muddle.

“I… have no idea.” Hongjoong admitted. Honestly, there were so many things racing through his mind that he couldn’t make anything out clearly enough. He sighed in frustration, placing his forehead in his hand and massaging his temples. He would definitely get a headache at this rate. “I just… this is all too fucking weird.” He sighed deeply. “I need to get this shitshow out of my mind if I’m going to get any sleep tonight.”

“Hmm…” Seonghwa hummed, rubbing the smaller man’s back comfortingly. “I could help.” He said softly, leaning in to kiss his boyfriend’s neck. Hongjoong tensed up only for a second, because he hadn’t been expecting the affections, but relaxed into the sensation quickly after. Seonghwa pecked his neck, sometimes nipping at the skin. Hongjoong could feel goosebumps rising on his arms at the feeling, and he sighed, this time happily as opposed to the previously stressed sigh.

Hongjoong tilted his head to the side to give better access for the other’s lips, and he turned to embrace Seonghwa, who had just found the right spot to make Hongjoong melt into him. He sucked that spot, and Hongjoong grabbed a bunch of the other’s hair and pulled as he could feel a mark being left on his skin. It hurt a little, and there would probably be a mark tomorrow, but it was nice. He felt so safe.

Hongjoong pushed the taller man down, so that he was straddling Seonghwa. He leant over the other, looking deep into his eyes for only a second. Honestly, he felt that he could drink up the look of lust Seonghwa was giving him and he wouldn’t need water for the rest of his life. So, he pressed his lips against the other’s, sucking on his bottom lip occasionally. His hands searched Seonghwa’s hair before sliding down to the man’s torso, feeling his way around the familiarly warm body. He was so warm.

Seonghwa in turn held the smaller man’s hips, caressing the sides as they made out. Soon, he found his hands wondering to the smaller man’s ass, and he grabbed playfully. Hongjoong smiled into the kiss, breaking away not just to catch his breath, but also to chuckle. But he leant back in almost immediately, wanting nothing but to continue.

Seonghwa felt the same. Everything right now was so, so confusing. He felt like he didn’t know anything. But no. That wasn’t true. He did know one thing. He loved Hongjoong. He knew that for sure, and nothing about alternate worlds or death would change that. And so, that’s all he thought about as he continued to pull Hongjoong closer and as he kissed him desperately. He loved Hongjoong. He wanted to be with the man, whether in life or death, and he wanted to make the man happy.

And maybe… he wanted to be happy with Hongjoong, too. He wanted the other to shout his name, to moan it, he wanted the other to want him back, and to unravel beneath him.

With those thoughts in mind, Seonghwa pulled Hongjoong’s hips towards his own, and even though they were both wearing their trousers, he could feel something firm rub against him. The smaller man gasped a little, still kissing him.

That noise. He wanted Hongjoong to make that noise, but louder. He used the strength in his arms to rub Hongjoong’s hips against his own, and Hongjoong continued to gasp into the kisses as he did so. But it wasn’t enough. Before the elder could complain, however, Hongjoong had sat up and started to lift his own shirt off, so Seonghwa did the same.

The younger man then pulled Seonghwa’s face closer to his again, and their bodies felt closer than before as their skin touched. Now, Seonghwa was barely using his strength at all, and Hongjoong was doing most of the movements. Seonghwa could feel that the both of them were hard already. Maybe it was the stress of the day combined with the lust they felt.

Hongjoong soon broke the kisses to work his way down Seonghwa’s body. It wasn’t long before he was at Seonghwa’s zipper, unbuttoning his trousers and pulling them down. Seonghwa took a gulp at the sight of Hongjoon’s face so close to his erect cock. Hongjoong’s expression was sinful as he loosely rubbed Seonghwa with his hand, and it was driving the man mad. He looked at the younger man’s soft lips, how he licked them and they became moist. He could barely keep his head up as Hongjoong’s warm mouth encircled the tip of his penis, beginning to suck lightly and take in his length. Not to mention, the sound of it all was so vulgar.

Seonghwa threw his head back, breathing heavily, using every ounce of willpower not to move his hips, to let Hongjoong do everything in this moment. That’s right… Hongjoong could do this now, but soon Seonghwa would make sure to give this pleasure back tenfold. He imagined what he could do to Hongjoong, how he could make the other into a moaning mess right on this very bed, and Seonghwa felt his stomach warm at the idea.

But no. This couldn’t end yet. Seonghwa bit his lip, pushing himself into a half-sitting position so he could look Hongjoong in the eyes as he sucked on his cock. It was sinful. It was all he could do to not allow Hongjoong to finish him off right then and there.

“Wait.” He managed to say, and Hongjoong took one last, long suck before stopping. He knew what this was doing to Seonghwa, and he enjoyed it. He took so much pleasure in trying to make Seonghwa give in to him. It was like a competition – who would give in to the other first? They had both won multiple times before. Who would win this time?

Hongjoong got up from his position to walk around to his bedside table and take out – what was that? A bottle of lube? Seonghwa stared in slight disbelief. Did this mansion seriously have bottles of lube?! That was… no. He didn’t need to think about that now. All he needed to think about was how to make Hongjoong say his name, and beg for more.

Seonghwa pushed himself up fully now, taking the lube from the other man and pulling him back onto the bed. He pushed the younger man down and finally took his trousers and pants off. Hongjoong’s erection bounced up, and Seonghwa almost took the whole thing in his mouth right then and there. But he wouldn’t. No. He would do something else today.

He squirted some of the lubrication onto his pinky finger, rubbing it against Hongjoong’s entrance. The other man squirmed slightly at the cold sensation, but soon relaxed into the feeling as the lube warmed up against his body temperature. Slowly, Seonghwa slid his finger inside, watching Hongjoong’s breathing become steady and deep as he concentrated to relax his muscles. Seonghwa felt the rings of muscle tighten and then loosen around his finger, and he moved said finger around – in and out, as well as wiggling it around a few times. Hongjoong bit his lip at the sensation, already clearly enjoying himself. But… he wasn’t moaning yet.

Seonghwa exchanged his pinky finger for his pointer finger, thicker and longer. It didn’t take long for Hongjoong to comfortably accept that size inside himself, too. At this length, Hongjoong was already moving his hips with the rhythm, his breathing heavier. And so, he slipped in a second finger. He didn’t take it quite so slowly this time, and Hongjoong gasped at the sensation. He lifted his hips above the bed slightly, and Seonghwa spread his fingers open, stretching Hongjoong’s hole.

“Ah-“ He gasped loudly. “Hwa- Please-“ He said, complaining a little. Seonghwa looked at him quizzically.

“Please… what?” He asked as if he didn’t know, smirking.

“Just- Fuck me!” Hongjoong said directly, clearly not wanting to wait any longer. “Please… I want you.” He said, and the desperation in his voice showed.

Seonghwa pulled his fingers out, Hongjoong wincing at the sensation. He held his cock steady, rubbing some lube onto it before lining it up against Hongoong’s entrance. He took in the view of the younger man’s body, completely naked and vulnerable, ready to accept him, and he pushed in slowly. The view was flawless, completely perfect, and for this moment he felt as if he was in heaven. They had done this many times before, but something about their situation made it feel simultaneously like their 1st and 100th time.

When Seonghwa’s full length was fully inside, he gave the other man a few moments to adjust to the sensation. It was Hongjoong that started to move first, bouncing up and down a little from his lying down position, before Seonghwa started to match his rhythm. The sensation on his penis was overwhelming. He felt every muscle squeeze against him. Hongjoong similarly felt every millimetre of movement that Seonghwa made inside of him.

That’s right. Seonghwa was inside of him, and he fucking loved it. He wanted more. Needed more. He felt as Seonghwa gradually got quicker in his thrusts, and Hongjoong couldn’t help but reflexively move his hips to make the thrusts harder than they already were. He was unwinding, just as Seonghwa had wanted. But he didn’t mind. He would win next time – but he would give himself to the other today.

“Hwa-“ He exclaimed, loosing strength in his thighs and barely able to move his hips any more as the pleasure was overwhelming his whole body and making him dizzy. Seonghwa could see this, and took over completely. He grabbed Hongjoong’s hips again, using his strength to pull Hongjoong towards him as he thrust inside. He could feel it going deeper inside of him every single time.

Hongjoong moaned for more, unable to form words, simply making noise upon each thrust. He grabbed onto the sheets beside him tightly, needing something to make him feel as if he wasn’t spinning. Seonghwa saw this, and knew he couldn’t let that happen. He needed Hongjoong to completely let go, to let Seonghwa send him into an ecstasy that he had never felt before.

He lifted Hongjoong’s whole body up, penis still inside as he held the smaller man up and leant him against the wall at the top of the bed. There was nothing for the man to grab onto now, except him. And Hongjoong did just that, wrapping his arms around Seonghwa’s neck as Seonghwa steadied the two of them in this new position. Seonghwa held Hongjoong’s hips again, bouncing the other up and down on his penis, searching now for a specific angle…

“Ah-“ Hongjoong let out a loud moan. There it was. Seonghwa smirked for a second before thrusting hard and deep into that same angle, feeling Hongjoong completely melt in his arms. His moans were loud, his voice right next to Seonghwa’s ear, driving him even more over the edge. “Hwa- Ah-“ He moaned so loudly, breathing hot breaths right into his ear. Hongjoong grabbed onto Seonghwa’s hair, pulling hard with one hand, and the other hand dug his nails into Seonghwa’s back. On the other hand, the rest of Hongjoong’s body was completely in his control, pushed against the wall, held up only by Seonghwa. Their bodies were so close that Hongjoong’s cock hit both of their stomachs as they thrust back and forth. Hongjoong felt the sensation on the tip of his penis, and it soon sent him over the edge. He was moaning Seonghwa’s name, unable to contain himself any longer.

Seonghwa, despite breathing heavily, took the opportunity to help him not just fall over the edge of ecstasy, but to come crashing down. “Come for me baby.” He said in a deep voice before he bit Hongjoog’s neck.

And Hongjoong soon let out some shorter, more breathless gasps and moans as his body felt warm and he let himself unload onto both of their stomachs. His whole body tensed up as he did so, his insides clenching around Seonghwa’s hard shaft. That was enough to pull Seonghwa over the edge with him.

They fell down the waterfall together, embracing as they crashed to the bottom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello!!!!!!!!!!!!!! long time no see!!!!! i hope at least a few people will still read this story. i'll be updating regularly again now, because I'VE FINISHED MY EXAMS AND DISSERTATION!!!! i'm so happy T____T 
> 
> as always, thank you to luzestelar, taestythot, haechans_squish, AnnaFloralberg, lachimolala and Russianguys for the lovely comments on the last chapter <3 i hope you haven't lost interest in this story yet!!


	9. The Path

Aside from Seonghwa and Hongjoong, the rest of the mansion was silently brooding. Without another person to fully confide in, processing the events of the day was much more of a daunting task. The six other men were all lying in bed, some trying to think, others trying not to think.

Amongst those attempting to process what had happened was Yunho. He, unlike the others, was not agonising about the possibility of the afterlife, but instead was racking his brain for memories. It had been clear from the conversations of the day that, even if some of the others hadn’t explicitly told everyone, Yunho was the only person who remembered practically nothing from his life before. Not only that, but Mingi had so cryptically told him that they had been friends, and yet had refused to give any more details. Why was that? He had avoided it with that pained expression – as if he knew something that would hurt Yunho.

Had something bad happened? The others - many of them seemed to be struggling before coming here in some way. Was he the same? Despite these hints and knowledge of the others he had, he couldn’t bring himself to believe that he had been hurting as badly as they had. He did remember that car crash, yes, but the only other thing he remembered was his family. He remembered that he had loved them unquestionably, and they had been so happy.

As he sat in bed, racking his brains for any grain of another memory, he recalled some vague facts about his life. He didn’t so much recall a specific scene as he had with the car, but he began to _know_ again that his life had a certain structure to it. He recalled that it was common for him to take his younger siblings to school – after all, they were a lot younger than him, and his parents needed to go to work. He also knew that most of his day was spent dedicated to those family members – transporting them, listening to or playing with them, helping them with homework, housework and other tasks. In the evenings, he would get a little time to himself, which he would usually spend playing games online with his various friends. And… he was happy living life like that. Sure, his life wasn’t the epitome of perfect, and he wasn’t pursuing some grand and impressive goal, but it was all he felt he needed. There was nothing significant to complain over. But despite remembering all of this, something still felt missing.

Frowning, he threw his duvet off of himself, and it landed in a heap on the floor. He chucked his legs over the edge of the bed, where his feet met the ground and he walked to the dresser in his room – the one with all of his family pictures on top of them. He had looked at them pretty much daily since he had woken up in this room, but over the last week or so he had only given them glances. That was mostly because he had been concentrating on trying to climb that tree, and may have been a little distracted having fun with the others in the evenings. But maybe, with this new information from the others today, seeing these images could trigger something.

He picked up one of the frames. The one in his hands showed an image of his whole family playing at the seaside. It had been during the summertime, on one of the rare days his parents would both take off from work. They had set up a picnic on the beach to munch on sandwiches and grapes from the nearby shop, and they washed those foods down with juice. His mother and father had even treated all their children, including the adult Yunho, to some ice cream from the truck that had pulled up nearby the beach.

Yunho smiled at the picture that brought back these pleasant memories. He looked over each of his family members – his mother was oth sat underneath their umbrella to protect themselves from the sunlight, but everyone else was playing in the sun and sand. His father was holding the camera, head taking up most of the centre of the shot as his brother and the older of his two sisters were knocking over a sandcastle they had built on the left hand side of the image. Yunho was on the other side of the image in his wet swimming trunks, carrying his youngest sister on his back. They had both just been swimming in the sea. Despite being a hot day, the water was cold, and she had started crying, so Yunho was carrying her back to the family, where she would be “safe from the cold water”.

He remembered that after that picture was taken, he had placed his sister back down and she had given him a quick peck on the cheek before running off to enjoy some fun in the sand with her other siblings. He remembered their high-pitched laughs and how they had slept in the car on the way back – the youngest sister sitting on his lap in the car (their car only had 5 seats).

After a while of replaying all these happy scenes in his head, he came to a realisation. He realised that this had been the last time that he had seen that youngest sister having such fun. The last time she had seemed so carefree and happy.

He dropped the frame he had been holding up onto the floor, where it made a loud cluttering noise that contrasted against the silence of the night. The sound reflected how he felt in that moment – as if he had been hit with a hard realisation.

After that day on the beach, his sister had suddenly become ill. She was bedridden – unable to do much more than hold a basic conversation before needing to go to sleep from fatigue. That’s right – she had developed a rare genetic illness – a mutation in her genes that caused these symptoms, which would only get worse over time. At only the age of 9 she had been torn from a normal, happy life, and thrust into one full of pain, where the only dreams she could fulfil were in her head as she slept.

Yunho remembered how he had met Mingi through this tragedy. One of the only times his sister could leave the house was to visit the hospital in the middle of the huge metropolis. Being in such a big city, the hospital had set up a kind of support group, where others with this illness could meet each other and… who knows, really? Bond over their common misfortunes? Yunho wasn’t so sure what they did during these meet ups, but he knew that his sister would need several days of almost constant sleep to recover from the energy spent. Nevertheless, his sister wanted to go every month, and it was the only time their parents let her leave the house.

He met Mingi there. Yunho thought it was strange that his sister was friendly with a guy the same age as him – more than twicer her age – but it was understandable, considering how rare this illness was. There were only five people in this meet-up group, so it was inevitable that they would all get to know each other, even if they were completely different from each other.

He didn’t see Mingi in person very often – but after a few fun conversations, they had exchanged personal information and eventually had regular gaming sessions. Mingi could never play for an extended period, but the time they did spend playing and chatting through the internet was fun for both of them.

But, in this moment, Yunho wasn’t thinking of Mingi. No, he was thinking of his sister, who had deteriorated much more quickly than a typical case. In just one and a half years, she had gone from being a completely normal kid to being fed through a tube, practically unable to lift her finger. At this point, it was a good day if she managed to speak a full sentence to her family.

He knew his parents were, of course, suffering. Their youngest child was dying painfully. The whole family was suffering, worrying for her, torn between wanting her suffering to be over and wanting to believe that she would get better. But he was also fairly certain that he was the one who was most upset. His youngest sister, who had never hurt a fly, who had made him so happy, was meeting this cruel fate. He had spent so much time dedicated to her, and she was by one of the most important things to him, the only other people coming close being his other siblings. He couldn’t imagine a world without one of these people he was dedicating his life to.

It wasn’t fair.

And then one day, she passed away in her sleep. He had been the one that had walked in to find her unresponsive the next morning. The next week had passed by so quickly, and Yunho barely remembered a moment from it. He did, however, remember how he felt after the funeral. That day was that same day that it had started to pour down with rain. The same day that he had chosen to take a night stroll in that rain, alone with his melancholy, miserable, mourning thoughts. Where was his sister now? Was she in heaven? Was she being reborn somewhere else on the planet? Or was she now just a dead body bound to rot in the ground? _Wherever she was, she must be so lonely_ , Yunho remembered thinking as he stepped onto the busy road in the pouring rain that night.

That was when he was hit with a car, his last thoughts being of joining his sister. He hadn’t meant to be hit by a car – he had in fact intended to just take a walk and to wallow in his misery – but in that moment, he didn’t have time to regret making the fatal mistake of taking a wrong step. In fact, before he passed out, he felt at peace with the idea of joining his sister, wherever she was.

Yunho stepped backwards from where he was in his bedroom, away from the framed pictures. As he did so, he eventually hit the base of his bed, and collapsed into a sitting position on the floor. He could feel his eyes moistening – how had he forgotten that his sister had died? How could those emotions he felt be erased for so long? He sat there, crying, unable to really process all the information that had overwhelmed his mind in these last 12 hours.

He ended up sleeping in that position on the hard marble floor. He dreamt of his sister’s smile and the rain.

-

Mingi couldn’t sleep. He had been trying – he had laid down in his comfy bedding, turned off the lights and was trying to think of peaceful scenery so that he could drift into a dream. But it wasn’t working. The problem was that even if he was imagining a scene of a sunny park with pretty butterflies flying around, clouds of confusion would drift over the sky and cast a dark shadow on the ground. It broke the illusion of a nice sleep and made him think about the problems from the day. So, instead of attempting to sleep using this method, he decided to try a different tactic: If he walked around the house for long enough, he would eventually grow tired, right?

He wore his slippers, which made nice tapping noises against the hard floor of the hallways in the mansion. The sky outside was cloudy and dark, yet the moon shone with enough brightness to be able to see clearly in the hallways, even without lights turned on.

And so, Mingi paced around the mansion. As he did so, his mind started to wonder. He let it do so – he reasoned that maybe not just physical activity, but also mental strain would tire him out too. He thought about possibilities and worries as his legs took him from one end of the corridor to the opposite end without any issue. Now that he thought about it, that… was strange. Wherever he was before waking up here – he couldn’t walk for longer than the distance from his bed to the toilet without feeling like passing out. He couldn’t read more than a chapter of a book without needing to nap. He couldn’t help with housework or go to classes or play sports at all. But now… now, he could do all of that, without so much as a yawn. He had been trying to climb a tree for days, god damn it. He had barely gotten any sleep last night, but was still full of energy right now.

How could he sleep for even one _minute_ knowing that he now had these abilities he had missed for years?

Before he knew it, he had walked around the mansion several times and ended up stood outside of Jongho’s green bedroom door. He stared at the door for a while, wondering why he felt the impulse to knock his hand against the wood and see if the younger man was also awake. He didn’t have to wonder long, however, before realising why he had come: He wanted to ask what Jongho thought about why Mingi was no longer suffering from his illness, and yet Jongho was still afflicted with blindness. Perhaps the other man had some logical suggestions, or maybe they could just trudge through their confusion together rather than alone.

Before he knocked, he heard the shorter and younger man call out, “Is someone there?”, which startled the tall man. Jongho must have heard Mingi’s loud footsteps approaching.

“Yeah, it’s Mingi. Uh- Wanna chat?” He said, not really knowing how to approach the topic, especially considering he hadn’t spoken to Jongho a hell of a lot before this moment. Perhaps they had made some joking remarks to each other in the group’s daily evening gaming sessions, but other than that, he didn’t know much about Jongho’s personality. As Mingi waited for a reply, Jongho suddenly opened the door and invited the other inside. He was also in his pyjamas, but didn’t seem particularly tired based on the lack of bags under his eyes. “Sorry – were you trying to sleep?” Mingi said out of courtesy, but came in anyway.

“Yeah, unsuccessfully.” Jongho admitted as Mingi sat himself down on a chair in the room. Jongho proceeded to rest on the foot of his bed, facing the direction Mingi was sat. Mingi couldn’t help but notice how easily the man navigated the room – from his door to his bed. Now that Mingi thought about it, he seemed just as confident moving throughout the mansion now – through the maze of the library bookshelves as well as down the tall staircases. It was almost as if Jongho could see everything.

“I- I’m not sure how to ask this without being blunt, so I’ll just say it.” Mingi started to speak when the room fell to silence. “I think you probably figured from what happened today, but I remembered… y’know, about my life and stuff, before this place. And I was really ill. I was bedridden and couldn’t do anything.” He explained awkwardly, honestly not looking for sympathy of any kind. He watched Jongho’s face, and before the smaller man could even open his mouth to offer his empathy, Mingi continued. “But then I woke up here and, well, there’s none of that. Like, I can walk. I can do energetic things. I pulled an all-nighter last night. Like, I could never do that stuff before. But now! Now, I can!” He exclaimed, smiling as he said so. After a thoughtful pause, he said, “It’s difficult to explain why, but it’s been bothering me all day… Why am I all better, but you are still, well, blind?”

Jongho sat on his soft bed in silence for a few moments, clearly trying to find an appropriate answer. He had wondered the same thing over these last few hours, too. However, as he wondered, he noticed that he hadn’t felt anger or jealousy – only confusion and wonder. Even though this world seemed to be showing favouritism towards the taller man, he didn’t feel a sense of injustice. He didn’t feel angry that he was still blind. And so, he had asked himself: Did he really want to have sight? Was it the thing he wanted the most? The answer to that, in reality, was no. Sure, being blind wasn’t the easiest, and it had lots of issues. But he had been born this way. It was all he had ever known.

Was the answer something to do with their ability to experience something? And, therefore, as Jongho had never had the experience of sight, there was no way to give it to him?

Or was it simply because Jongho didn’t crave sight as badly as Mingi had craved to be healthy? Based on Mingi’s descriptions, he had been suffering greatly because of his affliction. But Jongho, while he did face difficulties because of his blindness, wanted other things much, much more than sight. He would rather be treated normally. He would rather reach his dreams and sing to people. It’s not that he was actively against gaining sight – but in his adult years so far, he had never had a true burning desire for it. Could that be why he still had this condition, even in this weird world – because it wasn’t something he had wished for?

But at the same time… he didn’t wish to be here. He wished to be back in his normal world, to be back making music and working hard on his passions. But here… that was impossible. Surely, if this world was some world that granted your most desperate wishes, he wouldn’t be here in the first place.

No matter what he tried to reason with himself, no matter what theory started to make sense, there was always something that threw a screw into the hypothesis. 

He explained all of these feelings to Mingi, who listened intently, trying to follow along. To be honest, Jongho was surprised with himself by how much he had revealed to the man he barely knew.

Maybe it was desperation to try and understand, or maybe it was purely because he was tired and not thinking straight.

Either way, the only thing the both of them felt was true by the end of this conversation was that unless they stayed here for an eternity, it might not ever be possible to understand any kind if ‘why’ about this world.

-

When the sun rose the next day it couldn’t be seen as it was hidden behind grey clouds covering the sky. The sea reflected that greyness and the air was cool and prickly, as if preparing for a shower of rain, or as if it were made of energy ready to combust.

Wooyoung sat up in his bed, brain as foggy as the sky. He rubbed his head, trying to clear his mind, but it was a clogged pipe. He couldn’t get rid of the thoughts of his dreams – despite being one of the lucky ones to manage falling asleep that night, he only felt more tired from the exhausting images he had seen in his slumber. He had dreamt of distorted versions of his memories – He saw himself in his dormitory’s bedroom mirror in those dreams, his reflection becoming distorted as blood rolled down his face instead of tears. He saw his hand start to become the colour of his pencil lead, the blackness spreading up his arm like a disease as it infected his whole body. The bathroom tiles started to crack underneath his feet and became broken glass, through which he fell into what felt like a void of nothingness.

But it was just a dream. He was now sat in bed, just trying to forget.

He forced himself to get dressed and brush his teeth. He glanced at himself in the mirror of his bathroom, which was totally normal. He saw his averagely messy hair and tired eyes. That was all he really saw as he looked into his own eyes, yet in his mind he remembered more. He remembered how he felt the day before he woke up here. He remembered what he had done to himself.

A particularly worrying thought also wondered across his mind… what would happen if he tried the same thing here, in this world that the others seemed to be convinced was the afterlife? Surely, if this was the afterlife, it would be impossible to die here, too, right?

He shook his head angrily and washed his face with cold water. _Don’t be stupid. This isn’t the afterlife. You’re still alive._ He smacked the cold water into his cheeks and left the room.

As he reached the end of the hallway on the way to the dining room to meet the others, he saw a few of them stood at the top of the grand staircase. Hongjoong, Seonghwa and Yeosang were stood together, looking in the same direction towards the painting – that huge painting of the tree. They seemed to be deep in discussion as Wooyoung approached them.

“Hey.” Seonghwa nodded at the younger man as he saw Wooyoung approach. “We were just talking about this painting – how the flowers and leaves have… grown, I guess?” He explained to the other.

Wooyoung turned to look at said painting – and saw that what Seonghwa had said was, indeed, correct.

But instead of wondering why, or how, he just felt sick. As he tilted his head upwards to look towards the top of the painting, he felt dizzy, as if he may fall backwards down the stairs and to his death.

He steadied himself on the nearby railing.

“Are you okay?” Hongjoong said, his voice showing clear worry.

“I’m fine.” Wooyoung replied, perhaps a little too quickly to be convincing. “I just… I think I need some fresh air. Alone.“ He mumbled the last word just loud enough for the others to hear. Yeosang seemed to have a concerned expression, and in return Wooyoung tried his best to give back a reassuring look. “I’ll see you guys later.”

He just needed to think. Or, preferably, _not_ think. Either way, it needed to be alone, away from any of this weird mystical bullshit. He felt like he might puke if he saw anything more that confused him.

So, he exited the house and went outside. As expected, it was a little chilly on this island today. He welcomed the cold, though. It made him feel more alive – he could feel the slight stinging sensation on his cheeks as the wind blew. The scenery didn’t look like the paradise it usually resembled – instead, it looked real. Actually, as he started to wonder, he realised that the scenery gave him some nostalgic feelings. He remembered that back home – not university, but back with his family – there was a nearby park with one section packed full of trees. He would take walks there often, especially when he felt overwhelmed or in need of a different atmosphere.

He didn’t have a place like that at university, which was right in the centre of the city. He knew that he could take half a day to travel out somewhere on the outskirts of the city, nearer nature, but in the state of mind he had been in, he wouldn’t have allowed himself. Perhaps he should have. It may have made his marks worse if he spent less time on studying, that’s true, but really, what worth did a good grade have if it was at the expense of his wellbeing?

Wooyoung took a walk along the intertwining and diverging pathways in the woods of the island as he thought about all of these things – about his home, his university life, his mental state back then. It was strange – the day before he came here, he couldn’t see a way out of any of his problems. He had the belief that he had to work harder, even if it killed him, and that was all he could do. But, just like how taking a walk in the park helped back when he was at home, the fresh air brought with it fresh thoughts and solutions. Maybe, just maybe, he had been thinking about university and his grades in the completely wrong way before.

But… what was the right way? He tried to answer this question as his legs took him deeper into the woods, but he couldn’t come up with an answer for that. Despite not having an answer right now, however, he still felt calmer, as if there was hope for the future.

After a while, he approached a larger fork in the road. He wasn’t quite sure where on the island he was at this point – trees blocked his view from seeing both the house at the top of the hill and the sea at the bottom. He might as well have been in the middle of a forest that was thousands of square kilometres large. But while that may have scared some people, he thought in this moment that feeling a world away was good. He felt like he was on earth again, and not on some mysterious island that did inexplainable things and didn’t make any sense. This feeling was much better than how he had felt one hour ago now.

Both pathways that went to his left and right looked almost identical. The only difference was that the path on his left hand side seemed to have less flowers and berry bushes. He felt that he couldn’t choose, as if something about which path he chose would mean something. But that was stupid. How could choosing a path in a forest make a difference? Besides, he had already randomly chosen paths at tens of forks already today – why was this one making him think?

And so, he forced himself to choose the left path, reasoning that he was choosing it completely arbitrarily. It had less flowers and berry bushes, but it didn’t make the scene any better or worse. There were still trees, fresh air and dirt beneath his feet.

Wooyoung walked forward, now a little faster than he had been going before. He walked for perhaps only one minute before realising that the dirt path underneath his feet was starting to become less clear. The pathway dithered down, eventually completely disappearing and blending in to the dirt beneath it.

_Where… should I go now?_ Wooyoung thought, looking forward and no longer seeing a clear path to take. The way forward had stopped, and all he saw now was more trees. Many were covered in a dark, unsaturated green, moss, and some of them had red fungi growing beneath them. Other than those colours, the scenery was completely grey. With the leaves blocking out the sun, as well as the foggy atmosphere of the morning air, there was barely any saturation of colour.

It would make a pretty picture, that’s for sure – the type you might find on an edgy blog online. But at the same time, nothing about it was inviting. He… didn’t want to go further into the woods. The path had ended. He could, technically, carry on this way into the treeline… but his body wouldn’t let him. He felt as if he stood in that position for an eternity, although it was likely only a few minutes, simply staring, at a loss of where to go. It only occurred to him after all this time that he could go back. He could simply turn back and return to that fork in the path. He could take the other path.

The solution seemed so simple.

As he began walking back, water droplets seemed to start falling from the leaves above. It must have started raining, but only a little. He could barely hear the pitter-patter of the raindrops on the trees that were protecting him as he took the path backwards. He hadn’t noticed before, having moved so fast, but he had actually walked over many tree trunks. He had even passed by a fallen tree that looked to be rotting in the centre. It was strange that he only noticed this now, and not before. How had he not tripped over already?

Eventually he reached that fork in the road again and took the right-hand pathway.

Honestly, apart from the berries and flowers, the journey along this road wasn’t that much different. There were still grey trees, and if he turned his head far to the left and squinted, he would have been able to make out that fallen, rotten tree in the distance. Still, he felt less muddled on this path, and he continued. The path didn’t end this time, and continued clearly for quite a while more. On his way along it, Wooyoung’s mind was calm and quiet empty – just as he had hoped for earlier.

Eventually, on this path, he saw a clearing in the distance. He reached that clearing with no issue, and saw that the rain had wet the ground and made the dirt soft. The drops of rain cast a white layer over the distance. There were a few rays of sun shining through gaps in the clouds, and the lines of light across the sky looked pretty with the rain that fell to the ground. He followed the lines of the light and rain with his eyes, which finally landed on the mansion at the top of the hill.

Wooyoung felt as if his mind was beginning to see clarity. He didn’t really want to return to that mansion, but he knew it was his only choice right now.

It would be hard, but this was not the end.

He was sure – in this moment, he was still alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EYYY i hope this chapter was okay for you guys!! <3 thank you all so much for the support over the last chapter, i was so worried no one would be interested after the long break, but so many of you are still reading and that seriously makes me smile <3 <3 
> 
> so on that note, thank you to all of the commentators again - Russianguys, oofmanbts, Majda, hvvaurora, taestythot, luzestelar, kayak, lachimolala, haechans_squish, leetaeyongs, AnnaFloralberg, and MistOfDystopia !!!!!! <3 <3 i appreciate you all so so much and i hope you all have a great day!
> 
> see you again soon!!


	10. The Book

After Wooyoung returned to the house, he seemed to have more of a spring in his step. The others saw this change in attitude, but didn’t want to press for details, knowing that it might break the good mood. Still, they were happy to know that he seemed to be coping better than yesterday.

Unlike Wooyoung, Yunho did not join the rest of them for breakfast. He had replied to Hongjoong’s worried knocks on his door with a moody sounding “I’m tired, I’m just gonna stay here”. Honestly, at this point, Hongjoong wasn’t even surprised. It was clear, even if Yunho didn’t say so, that he had also recovered some of his memories, if not all. All of them had experienced something similar now – some fragments of memory that shattered their image of who they believed they were.

Additionally, it was also clear to Hongjoong that while some of the others had told them of their memories, others were keeping secrets. Actually, Hongjoong felt a little annoyed that they were being so private – there was no way that their memories could be worse than Seonghwa’s, right? The smallest man felt that they didn’t have a right to keep secrets, not after Seonghwa had been practically forced to confess some of his deepest regrets to them. But at the same time, he understood that even if their memories were objectively less terrible than Seonghwa’s, that didn’t invalidate their seriousness, or the feelings that were attached to them. He therefore sucked up his annoyance and continued on his day, hoping that the others would eventually confide in the group. For now, though, he tried to respect their privacy.

And so, he left Yunho to wallow in his feelings. As long as he wasn’t doing anything reckless, and was simply resting, that was fine. Hongjoong returned to the dining room to meet the others, although the atmosphere here wasn’t quite the same as normal, either. It was… rather quiet, actually. Sure, Yunho wasn’t there, but Mingi, Wooyoung and San were usually pretty loud. Seonghwa looked up from his seat, where he was eating his breakfast, to give Hongjoong a look pleading for help. He was clearly uncomfortable with the silence.

“Morning, guys.” Hongjoong said to attempt to break the silence as he sat next to his boyfriend and patted his thigh comfortingly.

“Is Yunho not coming?” San asked curiously, seeing that the tallest man had not entered the room with the smallest.

“He said he’s lying in. I think he wants to be… alone for a bit, you know?” Hongjoong replied. The others nodded understandingly and the table returned to silence for a moment.

“I think… I owe you guys an explanation.” Mingi suddenly put his knife and fork down on his plate, making a clattering noise. He placed his hands timidly on his lap as he spoke. “I didn’t think yesterday, and I realised I must have left some of you quite confused…” He continued, looking apologetically at them all.

Hongjoong became a little more reassured as they all listened to Mingi explain his recovered memories, and how he had realised the combination to the locks on the desks. He told them about the video game that he played here, which he had previously played while bedridden back in the normal world, and he told them what he remembered about his life. The others listened intently, beginning to understand more about their new friend. While Hongjoong did indeed feel sorry for the taller man, he felt more comforted in the fact that Mingi had answered some of his burning questions without prompting. He felt comforted knowing that Mingi trusted them enough.

In fact, Mingi’s story led to some of the others giving more details on themselves, too. Specifically, Wooyoung explained his self-tormenting thoughts during his time at university, and Jongho went into detail about his music and goals. The others also added in bits and bobs of what they remembered the days before waking up here, as well as their general lives. Even Yeosang joined in eventually. He didn’t say a lot, but he said more than he had told most of them before, which was enough.

Hongjoong hadn’t realised, but his body had been tense all morning, and was slowly beginning to unwind as he listened to all the little stories. Although each individual story contained its tragedies, he was so happy and proud that the others trusted each other. Of course, he was also glad that he could begin to put together the larger picture of who each person was.

The only one that was stilly a complete mystery to Hongjoong… was San.

He had obviously remembered some things, although Hongjoong wasn’t sure how much, exactly. They knew, through Seonghwa, that San had seen a murder he hadn’t meant to, and had been on the run for a long time. Additionally, because of Mingi’s questioning the day before, they were all pretty certain that San had remembered something that felt close to death. It didn’t take a genius to work out that the near-death memory and being on the run were probably linked to each other.

But despite knowing these things through others, San hadn’t given them anything. Even that morning as they all opened up about their memories and feelings, he didn’t contribute a thing. What was he hiding? And perhaps more importantly, why was he hiding it?

With these thoughts, Hongjoong looked directly at San. He hadn’t meant to be obvious, but it couldn’t be helped when he was so curious.

He saw San looking at all his new friends, minus Yunho. They were all so easily confiding in each other, comforting one another and getting along. And… Hongjoong saw San smile. He looked happy.

San felt so, so happy for them. He looked at each of them individually, realising that over these last few weeks… he had grown to trust them. They had all been so genuinely kind to him, and he had experienced so many fun moments with them – even Seonghwa, who he had previously been so terrified of.

Eventually, his eyes met Hongjoong’s.

And he knew. Hongjoong didn’t need to say anything, but San just understood that Hongjoong wanted San to join the others – he wanted San to trust everyone fully, and to let go of his worries.

But before San grew the courage to join in on the sharing session, the group had soon moved on to debate about what tasks they ought to carry out that day. Now that they had opened the desks, that was one more mystery seemingly solved. As they had been searching the library for the code to unlock those desks, was there any point in carrying on their search of the library? They weren’t sure. The only thing they could think of was the possibility that there may be answers to this world in the library. Maybe some obscure book somewhere, or a scribble on the corner of a page that answered any of their questions about the reality of this strange world.

The only other thing they still had left to explore was… that tree. Yes, there were other mysteries they hadn’t solved yet, like Seonghwa and Hongjoong’s memories of what had happened before they woke up here, and figuring out how the food appeared every day in the dining rooms out of thin air. But, this mystery was the only one that felt as if it _should_ be easy to solve – they just wanted to climb a tree. The knobs on the trunk and holes were all right there, like a climbing frame begging to be climbed, and yet they couldn’t. It not only seemed incapable of being climbed, despite clearly being able to see how to climb it, but it was also indestructible… and somehow connected to the painting in the mansion.

“We haven’t really talked about it yet, right?” Wooyoung mentioned to the others as the topic of the painting and the tree came up. “Like, I noticed the tree growing leaves kinda randomly. Like, not how you expect a tree to grow, right?” He asked, looking at the plant expert, Hongjoong.

“Yeah. Leaves and flowers don’t grow on trees like that.” He confirmed what the others had been thinking.

“And obviously there’s that damn creepy painting, too.” Mingi pointed out, and the others thought for a moment.

“As the tree grows, the painting shows that same growth…” Seonghwa muttered to himself in thought. “It seems that it happens in a similar way to how this food appears. Like, out of thin air. Like magic.”

“Actually,” Yeosang’s quiet voice piped up, grabbing everyone’s attention. “I couldn’t sleep well last night. So I came down and watched the painting. And… I saw it grow. It wasn’t sudden, like the food – it grew, like I was watching a flower bloom.”

The others nodded in understanding and thought.

“I’m not sure what significance it has, but… it seems like it grows when we remember things.” Hongjoong suggested. “There are eight of us, and eight branches on the tree. Yesterday, after Mingi remembered everything, the branch with almost no leaves on it suddenly grew to be completely full.” He explained his reasoning. “I don’t know why, but I guess maybe those branches are connected to each of us in some way.”

“Maybe we need to remember everything before we can climb it?” Wooyoung suggested. “Some psychological magic or something?”

“That doesn’t make sense logically, but since this world tends to not make sense, anything could be the truth.” Jongho said. “And if we assume that _is_ the case, maybe instead of trying to climb the tree… we should focus on remembering everything.”

“Okay. So… Hongjoong and I still have some stuff to remember.” Seonghwa said. “What about all of you?”

“I’m pretty sure I remember everything.” Mingi admitted. “Not sure about Yunho, though.”

“I also remember everything.” Wooyoung said.

“Me too.” Jongho added, and Yeosang nodded.

The only one who hadn’t replied was San. They all looked at him, waiting for a response and he tensed up under the gazes.

“I…” He started, but had to swallow the lump in his throat. He felt in his heart that he had to take the leap – to tell them everything. “I’m not sure if I remember everything or not. I think I do… but, it’s just, still so confusing.” San admitted. He looked at the others as he had done so earlier that day, finally making up his mind.

He had been suffering for so long, without a single person to confide in.

But now, he had all these friends. Why hadn’t he told them everything before now? He felt a weight being lifted off his shoulders and chest as he explained everything he had remembered – his father, being on the run, and the memory he had of drowning.

He almost felt like slapping himself for being so stupid. Why had he taken so long to realise that these guys were all people that he could trust? Why had he been so suspicious of them all?

But he knew the reason all along. He had been suspicious because of the nature he had grown while on the run. He had learnt not to trust anyone. If he asked for help from anyone, the person chasing him would only get closer. If he returned to his father, he would only be hurt more. If he tried to reach out to his old friends, they would be put in danger, too. He couldn’t confide in anyone.

But somehow, in this strange world, none of those issues mattered any more. He felt safe here, on this island, with these new friends.

-

The rest of the day was spent between exploring (and trying to trigger any remaining memories for the remaining men) and chatting with the others. Yunho chose to come out of his bedroom after midday, looking dishevelled, the bags under his eyes dark and clear. They had spent some time trying to get him to open up, and ended up in the game room, having fun for the rest of the day. It was undoubtably the least productive day they had had so far, but none of them really minded. It was a good break from their studying and worrying.

In fact, after spending so much time with each other, they all were beginning to feel like close friends. As if they had known each other their whole lives.

In reality, before waking up here, they had mostly not known each other. There did seem to be a link between them all, though; they all knew at least one other person in the group beforehand. Mingi had been friends with Yunho. Yunho had been hit with a car Yeosang was in. Yeosang listened to Jongho’s music. Jongho, it was discovered that day, had been a part of the same music class that Wooyoung had taken as an open option in his uniersity. Wooyoung had been childhood friends with San. San had seen Seonghwa killing another person. Seonghwa had fallen in love with Hongjoong. Hongjoong, it was also found that day, had been commissioned to send flowers to Mingi’s home as a ‘get well soon’ gift once. They were all connected in one loop. But they hadn’t all been a group of friends before, and now that they were, it felt right.

Later that evening, after playing lots of games, they all headed back to their rooms. Only Yeosang did not. Instead, he stopped walking up the stairs as Jongho split from him and walked towards his own bedroom. Yeosang watched as the man walked away, hesitating to say what he wanted to, palms sweating a little at the idea of asking someone to spend time with him. The younger man must have heard Yeosang’s steps stop, as he soon stopped walking too, and turned around.

“You okay?” He asked casually. He couldn’t see the expression on the others face, but figured something was up based on the fact that he was stood still. If he could see, he would notice Yeosang biting his lip anxiously. The older man wanted to spend more time with the younger. He wasn’t tired, and after the morning of everyone spilling all their secrets to each other, he felt a little… left out. He knew he could have joined in more, and yet when he tried to say anything in detail, his heart beat sped up and he worried that he might implode. Yeosang therefore reasoned that perhaps if he spoke to only one person, that would reduce his anxiety significantly. Yeosang felt closest to Jongho by far out of the people here, so the man was trying to work up the courage to ask to hang out. “Uh, you wanna come chill in my room?” Jongho suggested after Yeosang didn’t reply. He didn’t see, but Yeosang nodded gladly in response to the question, and started walking with Jongho down the hallway.

They entered the room and sat down in silence. Jongho went to his bathroom to change into his pyjamas and brush his teeth, and the atmosphere was relaxed. Yeosang simply sat there, observing the room. As Jongho got ready for the night, Yeosang wondered to himself: What, exactly, did he want to talk to Jongho about? His feelings? But… his feelings about what?

He had managed to slowly remember all the aspects of his life over these last few weeks, and he was sure he hadn’t forgotten a single thing. He felt like, unlike the others, he didn’t have some kind of tragic backstory. He didn’t have an illness, he hadn’t experienced any deaths, he wasn’t on the run. In fact, he would say that objectively he had experienced a life full of opportunity, surrounded by people showing him love. His parents provided for him, he had the money and time to do the things he liked, and so many people showed him affection after meeting him only once.

But that was it – people showered him in gifts and affection, but at the same time his life was plagued with loneliness. As soon as someone saw him, they would try to get closer. They wouldn’t care what he thought or what he said. He had gone through so many ‘friends’ – children of his family’s business partners, kids in school that wanted to be able to say they had kissed the pretty boy. And at some points, he had truly believed that they cared about him. Only, when he refused to help his friends pick up girls to get laid, or when he chose to make them a hand-made gift instead of purchasing something expensive for their birthdays, they left him. They only cared about one of two things: His family’s money, or his looks. They didn’t care about how he felt, or anything else he had to offer.

That was why he became so silent. If they didn’t care what he had to say, then he wouldn’t say anything. And maybe after realising that Yeosang was not so easy to get close to and manipulate, they would stop trying to take advantage of him.

But no, his life was great. Objectively.

Perhaps that’s why he felt unable to tell the others – surely, they would judge him for feeling empty in such a full life? Yes, they had all been supportive and helpful for these last few weeks… but what about when they found out about his life? What about if he confessed that, despite his privileges, he still didn’t feel happy? He wasn’t sure, but based on his experiences in life so far, it would change them. Well, perhaps more accurately, it wouldn’t change them, but it would change how they acted towards Yeosang. He of course hoped that the others wouldn’t change like that, but he didn’t want to risk it.

So why was he here, if he was too afraid to tell anyone his thoughts? Something about how everyone had been confessing their feelings and issues to each other this morning made Yeosang yearn for something similar. And something about Jongho just made Yeosang feel so much more at ease. Maybe it was the fact that Jongho’s music had been such a comfort to him when he felt the loneliest. Or, maybe it was partially the man’s calm and independent aura that made any problem feel solvable. Or perhaps it was also the fact that Jongho was blind. Being unable to see, there would be no way for this man to want to take advantage of Yeosang for his looks, right? He couldn’t be sure about the money – but that certainly didn’t seem to be something that motivated Jongho. The younger man was motivated by his passion in music, not money. He… could trust Jongho for sure, right?

“Jongho?” Yeosang finally said after a while of them both sitting there in silence. Jongho hummed in response to show he was listening. “I just… I guess, I wanted to thank you.” Yeosang continued. “For… I don’t know, accepting me? For not expecting anything of me, and for being kind to me despite me not being of much help for anything.” Yeosang cringed, totally not used to saying anything remotely emotional. He could feel his face blushing, and was grateful that Jongho couldn’t see it. After a few moments without response, Yeosang looked at Jongho, who had a confused look on his face.

“Uh… you’re welcome… for me treating you like a normal person?” Jongho said, chuckling a little, yet still showing that he understood the seriousness of Yeosang’s thanks.

Slowly, Yeosang told him some of the details of his life. Jongho listened intently, clearly doing his best to understand what Yeosang had gone through.

“So… were you too scared to tell the others?” Jongho finally asked after Yeosang felt as if his throat was about to rip from speaking so much. Honestly, he wasn’t sure he had used his voice so much in years at this point. How Jongho could sing – loudly – for hours on end was beyond him.

“Yeah… I just, it’s not that I don’t trust them, I just… get anxious.” Yeosang said, conveniently forgetting to add ‘but you help me feel calm’ to the end of that sentence. For a few moments, they sat in silence, Jongho processing everything he had just been told. In those few seconds, Yeosang felt a little nervous, worried that perhaps Jongho would make his feelings out to be nothing, or even worse, he might comfort the other too much to the point of patronisation.

But that wasn’t what the other man did. He simply said, “I’m glad you told me.” With a smile stretching across his cheeks. Jongho didn’t seem to smile much, but the sight was, to Yeosang, precious. He felt as if the man was truly happy to hear something from Yeosang, as if his words actually meant something. That feeling of being valued as a person was… refreshing.

“If… If we can all get out of here, back to our lives… I’d like to go to one of your concerts. And it’d be great to not die on the way there, this time.” Yeosang said, smiling brightly at the idea.

“I’ll give you V.I.P access.” Jongho smirked at the other. “Only people I like get that honour.”

Yeosang blushed a little. Maybe it was because of the idea of having a proper friend. Maybe it was because of something more. Either way, he didn’t think too much about it, again just glad that the other couldn’t see him being embarrassed.

-

The next day, everyone gathered for breakfast early. They all felt more energised than the day before, even if a few of them still felt emotionally heavy. Their breakfast was peaceful – they all chatted happily, making jokes, eating delicious food and telling stories.

None of them really thought about it, but in those moments together, they were truly happy. Yes, there were scary things to think about later, but just for now, everything could have been perfect. It might have been utopia.

Some of the others decided to take a walk around the island. Wooyoung, on the other hand, decided to go back to the library. It’s not that he didn’t feel like appreciating the beautiful scenery of the island – but he had a few things he wanted to look at. Firstly, he wanted to look through his psychology books again, but this time specifically for information about recovering from depression. Secondly, he wanted to try and look for and clues about this island – maybe some obscure religion whose spiritual world resembled this place, or a fictional novel that was set on an alternate-reality island. He knew there were lots of those kinds of books – thousands, probably. But if he was going to be spending a long time here, he might as well get started now.

First was the psychology books. He had learnt from his professors that self-diagnosis was a big no-go, and he should instead go to a doctor, but honestly, he was the only person even close to qualified on this island. In his head, he felt so, so certain that he would eventually leave this place and return to his life, but he didn’t know how long that would take. Perhaps it would take a few days or weeks. Or maybe it would be years. He couldn’t deny that possibility. He couldn’t deny anything, at this point.

Anyway, because of the uncertainty of when he would be able to get a professional diagnosis or treatment, he knew he would have to take these matters into his own hands. He knew it would be hard. He knew that he may want to give up sometimes, or that it might feel useless. But he had to try. He couldn’t keep living like that – consumed by things such as grades. He couldn’t keep hurting himself and think that he could live the life he wanted to return to happily.

So, he started some research. Of course, many of those books spoke of medication that he hadn’t seen on this island. Again, he couldn’t deny the possibility that the island could simply magic up whatever medication he needed – but he couldn’t rely on that hope, either. Besides, treatments explained in his textbooks were not only medication, but that paired with therapy of some kind, too.

That was something he could at least attempt.

He kept out the books he thought seemed useful, putting in bookmarks on the chapters about the treatment of depression.

He had read too many psychological terms for one day. That was enough. He felt that he needed to take this at his own pace.

So, he moved on to his other self-inflicted task – finding any possible information about this island. By this point, Hongjoong had also returned to check up on the younger man, and after explaining his thoughts, the leader of the group joined in. Wooyoung personally didn’t enjoy fiction, instead preferring to read about real things (although he wasn’t even sure if this island was real in the first place). So, Hongjoong started to read books from the fiction section that seemed relevant, and Wooyoung searched the library for history and religion textbooks.

As he was searching for the right section, he passed by a bookshelf he hadn’t noticed before. It was tucked away in one of the upper levels of the library, and you had to climb a ladder to reach it. It looked almost identical to the other bookshelves, too, but there was one difference that made it stand out: It wasn’t labelled.

All the other bookshelves were labelled – ‘Ancient History in South East Asia’, ‘Art Styles of the Late 19th Century’, ‘Photo Albums of American Political Events’. But this one didn’t have any.

Wooyoung was curious. And so, with seemingly all the time in the world to spare, he put off his current task to focus on this new mystery at hand: What kinds of books were here?

He climbed up the ladder to look at each book on each shelf. Many of them did not have titles on them, and the ones that did were cryptic at best. He took a few of them down from the shelves, and started reading them on a nearby desk.

Each book seemed to be completely unrelated to each other – some appeared to be logging information about constellations, others seemed to be textbooks on various subjects, and others were fictional children’s picture books. Why on Earth had all of these books been placed together, Wooyoung wondered. Were they just leftovers, crammed together into the last spare bookshelf?

That didn’t seem correct. Nothing on this island was random. Everything in this place seemed to be for a reason.

And so, Wooyoung continued reading.

It was only after a while that he noticed something – none of these books appeared to be talking about the world he was from. The constellations – he had never heard of any of them before. The history in the textbooks didn’t match with what he knew about Earth’s history. The stories in the children’s books – they seemed normal, but none of them were ones he had heard before.

He was confused. Were they all talking about a fictional world? Possibly. Maybe that’s why they were all together – some insanely creative hermit was creating his own fictional world, George R. R. Martin style, and had ended up creating a whole bookshelf full of books building on the lore of his made-up world?

But that was ridiculous.

No… it seemed more likely that this bookshelf was trying to tell Wooyoung something. It contained some valuable information, he knew it.

When Hongjoong came up to his floor a few hours later to ask if he wanted to join them for dinner, he said no. He felt like he couldn’t rest until he had read every single book here. Hongjoong had left a little unwillingly, and an hour later, the group had brought a plate full of food to the library for Wooyoung to eat whilst he read.

It was now dark out, and Wooyoung still had quite a lot more to read. He explained to the others what he was doing, and why this bookshelf seemed important, and they all happily offered to help.

It was midnight by the time they found something they felt was really meaningful. As all of them had been helping, they had gotten through the rest of the bookcase quickly, and Wooyoung was the man to pick up the last book on the shelf. It was hardback, and yet incredibly thin – only a few pages thick. Most of the weight of the book was taken up by the front and back cover.

It didn’t have a name on the side or front, but once he opened the book to the first page, his stomach sank. He didn’t quite know what any of it meant, but he felt as if this must be what he had been looking for. There was a sinking feeling inside his stomach as he looked at the details of the page, and he knew that even if he could never fully comprehend this book, it was the singular most important book in this library.

The first page showed what seemed to be a diagram, labelled ‘Life and the Universe’. It showed two large circles overlapping each other, a Venn diagram. The overlapping part was large – definitely over half of each circle. The only addition to this page was various dots and splodges outside and inside of these circles. Wooyoung tried to rationalise these - perhaps they were mistakes - smudges of ink, perhaps? Wooyoung turned the page.

The next page had the title ‘Anomaly traits’. There were several circles on the page – arranged to look like bubbles. Each one had a drawing of an object or symbol inside. Some of those objects Wooyoung recognised – a heart, fire, even what looked like a paintbrush. Some of them he didn’t recognise. The symbols were similar – some familiar and some unfamiliar. The ones he did recognised ranged from flags to symbols representing whole religions. A Cross, a Wheel of Dharma, a Seal of Solomon. Wooyoung, unable to really understand much more than the face value of this illustration, turned the page.

Another diagram was shown, but this was even less comprehensible than the last. This page was titled ‘Anomaly creation’. There was one single large circle in the middle, with eight short lines extending from it – similar in appearance to a child’s drawing of the sun. In between each of these lines, outside the circle, were arrows pointing towards this circle. Only one of these arrows was larger than the others, but other than that, the arrows were identical. There was nothing inside the circle. Wooyoung turned the page again.

He was now on the fourth and final page of this book. His head was confused, but he tried his best to take in all the details of this last page. It was another diagram, this time titled ‘Structure of an anomaly’. It showed a much more detailed diagram than the last three – this time, there were layers of shapes on top of each other in the shape of a pyramid that became smaller at the top. The most clear of these layered shapes was in the middle of this pile. The shapes on top were clear, but less saturated in colour, and the layers near the top were barely visible. The shapes below this layer were not outlined with a solid line, instead being outlined with a dotted line. Those lower and larger layers did not end, and seemed to extend beyond the boundaries of the page. Between all the layers were arrows pointing upwards and downwards. Finally, at the top, an arrow was drawn pointing away from the pyramid with no returning arrow. This singular arrow pointed towards a Venn diagram at the top of the page – one that looked much like the diagram from the first page.

However, perhaps the thing that stood out to him most on this page was something drawn faintly inside the pyramid’s layers – a tree with eight branches.

-

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO i'm really not sure if i explained the diagrams well enough, but i did some doodles of what i was imagining and added them to the end of the chapter lol. so pls refer to these if you're confused about the pages. 'roscats' is just my artist pen name so that it's watermarked haha, it's nothing to do with the story.
> 
> also!!! i've kinda built up some lore about this world LOL like how the world works n stuff. i haven't decided yet if i'll tell it all or if i'll leave it vague for you to interpret or not though. based on what i have planned for the story, there will only be a few chapters left so we're getting near the end!!!!! :D
> 
> as always!!! thank you so much for the comments! thank you taestythot, luzestelar, Kai, haechans_squish, leetaeyongs, and MistOfDystopia <3 <3 <3 !!!


	11. The Night

Wooyoung closed the book, mind simultaneously blank and messy. Was this some kind of explanation to this world? Or was it, as he had suspected earlier, the doodles of a slightly eccentric fantasy world-building genius? He didn’t know, and he sighed as he placed the book down on the table. The sigh broke the silence of the room, which Wooyoung hadn’t even noticed before thanks to his mind focusing so much.

It wasn’t long before everyone was crowded around the book, frowning in confusion at its contents (and of course, they described the pages to Jongho, too). For a while, they flicked back and forth between the four pages, trying to make sense of the lines and dots on the pieces of paper. Honestly, under any normal circumstance, they definitely would have all figured this book to be nothing but nonsense. But this _wasn’t_ a normal circumstance, and on top of that, they all just _felt_ as if these diagrams were of importance.

Hongjoong exhaled loudly, rubbing his temples as he said “Does anyone have any idea how to make sense of these?”. His question was met with silence. Only after everyone had sat back down, those images practically burned into their minds, did anyone suggest something.

“So… the ‘anomaly’, that’s where we are, maybe? A place that is separate from the universe somehow. Like an alternate dimension or something?” Jongho suggested, and the others thought about that for a moment. It certainly seemed possible.

“It could make sense… I think.” Hongjoong said slowly. “On the page titled ‘Anomaly creation’, it shows eight arrows coming together. There’s eight of us… so maybe each arrow represents one of us?” His trail of thoughts drifted, and he didn’t know how else to carry on explaining how it might be possible.

“One of them is bigger than the other one, though.” Yunho pointed out correctly. It was true; the arrows were all identical, except one was larger. “What do you think that means?”

“Maybe one of us is more important to this world than anyone else?” Seonghwa suggested.

“Or maybe the arrows don’t represent _us_ , but our _souls_ … or something, y’know? And maybe one person’s soul is bigger?” Mingi joined in, “I… don’t know. I don’t know anything about souls.”

“Hmm… let’s say both of those theories might be correct.” Wooyoung was looking intensely at the book, the experimental gears in his head turning. “Since we, as humans, have no way to know about what exactly the soul is with our current scientific abilities, anything could be possible. Maybe both of those theories are correct. Maybe just one. Or maybe it’s something entirely different. But… we seem to agree that, probably, those eight arrows represent us in some way… right?” He looked to the others to confirmation before continuing. “Maybe because it’s impossible for us to really understand, at least at this point in time, we shouldn’t focus on how the arrows actually create this… this ‘Anomaly’ place.”

“W-what should we focus on instead, then?” Yunho questioned the intelligent man.

“I… don’t know. Maybe we should try and figure out who the biggest arrow represents?” Wooyoung suggested. The others nodded in agreement. That seemed like somewhere to start. But… how could they figure that out? Was that even possible?

“I agree. I think that’s definitely something to think about. But what about the other diagrams?” Hongjoong added. That second diagram wasn’t the only one in the book; all four had to be of some importance. There was so much to unpack – why were religious symbols and various drawings in those circles on the third page? Why were the circles in differing sizes? Why did the first Venn diagram have very purposeful-looking splotches around it? He had lots of questions – but one was bothering him the most. “The last one – the one with the pyramid thing. And the tree.” He opened the book so that everyone could see the drawing. “That tree must be more important than we thought. But why? Why the tree, and not this weird house, or something else?” He said his thoughts aloud. He was trying to make sense of it. That tree – the one with eight branches – must be somehow fundamentally connected to this ‘anomaly’.

“I also wonder what those layers are supposed to represent.” San chimed in. “Is there a significance to the lower ones being dotted, and the upper ones being more faint?” He asked, and again no one had a good answer to his question.

“What about those arrows? There are clearly arrows back and forth between the layers… but only one leading away from the top layer.” Yunho observed.

“Obviously I have no clue… but maybe, just _maybe,_ this is some kind of clue on how to get out of this universe.” Hongjoong mumbled just loud enough for the others to hear. “The arrow from the top of the pyramid… it points to the two circles. They look awfully like the same circles on the first page. The ones called ‘Life and the Universe’.” He said, now pulling the book closer to himself, the Venn diagram taking all of his attention. “Maybe… that arrow shows that it is possible to get back to the normal universe, but since there is no arrow pointing back… we won’t be able to come back here… Maybe.”

“That’s fine with me.” Jongho commented. He didn’t want to come back here when he left – he wanted to go back home and stay there. He wanted to stay with his music, with his career and with his friends. “But… it doesn’t show _how_ to get out of this world, does it?”

“Maybe it’s something to do with the tree?” Yeosang finally spoke. The others considered this, and it suddenly seemed to make a little more sense. They didn’t know for sure, or know how, but they were pretty certain that the key to leaving this island was related to that tree. Perhaps the answer was inside the tree, or at the top. The theory made sense. That tree seemed to be the only huge mystery still unsolved. There had to be something significant, right? But… was it really a way out of this place?

“Maybe we should focus all our efforts on that tree…” Jongho suggested.

“That sounds like a plan.” Hongjoong smiled a little, feeling like there may be a little hope of leaving this world. “But it’s dark now. We can do it tomorrow. Together.” He made a point to glace at everyone, warning them not to put themselves in danger by wondering out at night alone, like a few of them had done already.

-

Everyone went to bed and relatively easily slept until morning, minus three of them.

Hongjoong and Seonghwa by now had practically moved into Seonghwa’s room. There was no particular reason they had chosen that room over the other; but staying together simply felt natural at this point. Because of that, it was only inevitable that an anxious Hongjoong would end up spilling his thoughts to the other man, who had a much more calming aura.

“Seonghwa, I… I was thinking.” Hongjoong started to say as they laid in bed together. Seonghwa hummed in reply, encouraging the smaller man to continue. “I… think that the biggest arrow might be me.” Hongjoong said, feeling silly as he said so.

“Uh, okay. Why do you think that?” Seonghwa sat up, knowing that this was something he shouldn’t be closing his eyes and relaxing for. He looked at his boyfriend, whose face was etched with worry. It made him sad to see that expression, and he immediately hoped that he could find a way to comfort the other. Clearly, this was bothering him, so the least he could do for now was listen.

“I just… it’s not much evidence, but this island. This whole place is covered in flowers, fruits and trees. It’s… well, it’s my idea of paradise, you know?” Hongjoong struggled to explain, but the older man thought he could understand. “It’s my ideal place. Like… If I believed in a heaven, this is what it might look like for me, I guess. So, maybe this world… this ‘anomaly’ was created using a bit more of my ideals than everyone else’s?” Hongjoong tried his best to explain. “So maybe, just maybe, it’s not that my ‘soul’ or whatever is bigger or more important, just that it had slightly more influence on this.. ‘anomaly’. I think. Maybe.”

“That… does make a bit of sense, actually.” Seonghwa hummed and moved his right hand to rub the other man’s shoulder. He could feel that the other man was tense. “Maybe the rooms of this house are the others’ ideals, but the whole of the outside is yours. That… makes sense.” He said, less so as something meaningful, and more so as a way to keep talking. He knew that when Hongjoong was stressed in some way, he enjoyed listening to his boyfriend just talk about anything.

“That’s not all.” Hongjoong admitted, interrupting Seonghwa. “I was also thinking. The others – at least the ones who described their… well, maybe-death to us – those deaths all happened at night, or in the evening. When the sun was down. Wooyoung – it was after all his lessons for the day. and Yunho both had theirs happen while Yeosang was headed to a concert – which was in the evening. Jongho’s happened after that same concert. I’m not sure about Mingi or San – but don’t you think that’s already a pretty big coincidence?” He asked the other, who thought for a moment.

“I… But what difference does that make?” Seonghwa questioned, not fully understanding why Hongjoong was bringing this up now.

“Maybe it’s the same for us. That one thing we can’t remember – maybe it happened at night?”

“Yeah, maybe… but again, does it make any difference?” Seonghwa was still just as confused.

“Maybe we need to remember at night time. Sure, some of the others remembered during the day, but since when did logic ever work in this place? Maybe _we_ need to explore at night, even if the others didn’t need to do that.” Hongjoong finally explained clearly, and Seonghwa understood a little better now. The smaller man looked at the older man expectantly, who slowly nodded in agreement. Honestly, he was pretty tired from the day of hardcore thinking, but he couldn’t say no to that hopeful face.

In their pyjamas, they slipped on their shoes and quietly headed outside. Seonghwa vaguely noted the irony of their actions after Hongjoong had, not one hour earlier, warned the others not to go outside without everyone else. He didn’t dwell on the hypocrisy for too long. No one else was in the hallways, and the house was silent, the only sounds being the tapping of their shoes on the stone floor. Outside, it was cool and humid, like a typical summer night. The wind only blew slightly outside, and there were barely any clouds in the dark sky. Hongjoong took a deep breath, enjoying the sensation of the fresh air in his lungs.

They both headed towards the tree – by now, all of them knew the route by heart. They had to walk along one of the paths for a while, before heading off into the thick woods. After reaching a large boulder, they needed to turn right, and they would soon reach the tree. There wasn’t a particular reason they had chosen the tree first over the beach or the lake – perhaps just because it had been on their mind all day, that was the first place they gravitated towards. As they got nearer the location, Hongjoong felt his stomach sink a little.

“H-hey- do you think we will remember something as bad as… you know, what we remembered before?” Seonghwa asked the shorter man, clearly feeling a slight sense of dread too.

“I doubt it. Not much can be worse than that, right?” Hongjoong tried to reassure the other.

After a while, they finally reached the clearing with the tree. It looked pretty much the same at night as it did during the day. It stood out from the surrounding, more normal-looking trees, and gave off a menacing aura, despite being almost full of flowers. _Almost_ was the key here. Two of the eight branches were pretty full – but less so than the others. Those branches must be Seonghwa’s and Hongjoong’s branches, because they only had one thing left to remember.

They got even closer to the tree, reaching near the base of the trunk. As they approached, Hongjoong felt a strange urge to sit down at the base. So, he did so. He sat with his back against the tree, his legs sprawled out on the thick roots. He took another deep breath and closed his eyes, leaning his head against the hard bark.

Seonghwa, on the other hand, was stood still. He had approached the tree, but wasn’t as close as his boyfriend. He looked towards the seated man, seeing that his eyes were closed.

That posture… it reminded him of something. Where had he seen Hongjoong sat like this before?

That’s right. It was that night. The night before they woke up here.

They had been running that night, for a while. The person searching for them had found them camped in the forest. They had been camping in that position for a few days now; they should have moved sooner; they weren’t careful enough. That would have been what Seonghwa was thinking at that time, were he not desperately trying to think of a way for Hongjoong to escape this assassin.

Only, at one point, they had run in different directions, separated by the thick foliage. It was dark, and they were both breathing so heavily that they couldn’t hear the other running. That was why Seonghwa didn’t notice Hongjoong’s separation from him for a few seconds after it happened.

He was now panicking even more than he was beforehand, if that was even possible.

“Hongjoong?!” He shouted, not caring if his position was given away to the assassin on their tails. Hongjoong wasn’t by his side. Hongjoong was in danger. That was all that mattered in this moment.

Seonghwa ran backwards, squinting in the darkness to find any tracks of where Hongjoong had run. It didn’t take long to see – footprints slightly smaller than his leading an alternate route pressed were into the falling leaves and moist mud. Seonghwa ran, following the new trail.

He didn’t need to go far before he saw Hongjoong, no more than ten metres along this path. Unlike Seonghwa had expected, however, he wasn’t running. He wasn’t even standing. He was sat at the bottom of a large tree’s trunk, in exactly the same position that Seonghwa could see on the island right now.

The only difference was that, at that time, Hongjoong had blood running down his head. It was difficult to see colour in the darkness, but Seonghwa’s vision saw a dark red, and that same colour started to fill his vision.

He didn’t have much time to think. His first instinct was to run towards the man, to see if he was still alive. But before he could reach the younger man, he was stopped. That assassin seemed to jump out of nowhere. Perhaps he had been standing in plain sight, but his tunnel vision refused to see anything except Hongjoong’s unmoving body. Either way, Seonghwa knew what his primary goal now was: To kill this assassin.

Despite wearing a mask, Seonghwa recognised the man vaguely from back at headquarters. He didn’t know a lot about him, but he had heard that the man usually took people out with hard knocks to the head. Seonghwa had been taught such a technique – to hit someone in just the right spot to either knock them out, or worse, immediately kill them – but had never used it himself.

Could that mean – the man had used that technique on Hongjoong?

Surely, as the government had been searching for the two of them for so long – the assassin would have orders to kill on sight.

This guy – he didn’t just kill Hongjoong, right? He had to just be knocked out, right?

Seonghwa had no time to dwell; he sprung into action, a mixture of adrenaline mixed with desperation for Hongjoong to still be alive helping him immensely.

The masked man was quick on his feet, and held a blade in his left hand. A small thing, but sharp enough to get the job done. He travelled light, which is why the two of them hadn’t noticed the man following them today. They had been so oblivious that when the man finally attacked, they had to leave with no notice from their camp. So, Seonghwa had no weapon. Not even a toothpick.

Seonghwa’s body moved reflexively – dodging each swipe of the blade. He hadn’t fought properly in a few months now, since he fought the last assassin that found them, but the movements were so engrained into his mind that he was certain he would still be able to do them when he was 90. If he was lucky enough to ever reached that age, that was.

But this wasn’t good enough. There was no way he could defeat this man by just dodging the stabs. He needed to attack, too. And he needed to do it quickly, so that he could check on Hongjoong and treat his wounds. His boyfriend wasn’t moving – _my god, that is a lot of blood_ , Seonghwa vaguely thought in a panic as he avoided yet another attack.

And so, he immediately went in. The other guy must have been taken by surprise. That was expected – amongst his employers and their workers, the story of Seonghwa’s initiation was pretty famous. The story about how a guy with only brass knuckles beat the guy with a sword – by tiring the other guy out, and then pouncing.

This guy must have expected the same tactic this time.

But Seonghwa didn’t have time for that.

So, he lunged towards the man, knocking his arm away. The man barely held on to the blade, to Seonghwa’s annoyance. The man pushed the back of the knife into Seonghwa’s face, knocking his head backwards, but not doing any serious damage. Seonghwa wouldn’t give up yet, though. He went straight back in, tackling the man to the ground, where his grip on the knife finally loosened enough to make the knife go flying away from the two of them.

And, Seonghwa started punching, hitting, strangling. He grabbed the man’s head and slammed it against the hard roots of the tree underneath them. Seonghwa put his hands around the guy’s neck, squeezing as hard as he could. The man clearly became dizzy, but as a trained professional, he knew exactly how to get out of this situation. Pushing his hands towards Seonghwa’s face, he had no choice but to retreat, or otherwise loose his eyeballs.

Luckily, the knife had been chucked far into the grass and moss, and was therefore difficult to spot, especially in the night. So, they were equal now.

They fought – Seonghwa wasn’t sure for how long.

All he remembered before blacking out was being pinned down on his front, the assassin locking Seonghwa’s two arms behind him, and using all his strength to hold Seonghwa down. Something was wrapped around his neck, but he wasn’t sure – maybe it was the other guy’s hands, or maybe it was a rope the guy had been carrying.

Either way, that was all he remembered before waking up on this island.

“Hwa. I remembered.” Seonghwa’s thoughts were interrupted with his boyfriend’s voice – a welcome sound. In reply to Hongjoong’s statement, Seonghwa nodded. “I guess… that guy got you, too.” Hongjoong guessed correctly.

“Looks like… we’re both dead.” Seonghwa said, the words feeling just as heavy as he imagined. He wanted to say he was sorry, that he couldn’t protect the other, that he failed. But… he didn’t. He didn’t want to make the mood even worse than it already was. He could apologise later.

The two of them stayed there in silence for a while, reliving the terrible memory. It certainly felt final. The others – some of them had been hoping that they weren’t dead, that maybe they had just blacked out and would wake up, as if this place was just a dream. But how could Seonghwa and Hongjoong not be dead after _that_? Sure, in those exact moments, they might have just blacked out, but that assassin would have made sure to finish them off, without even a sliver of a doubt that they were still alive. He would have made _absolutely_ _sure_. It was pretty much the first thing Seonghwa was taught during his training. So, it certainly seemed impossible for the two of them to have even a sliver of a chance of still being alive. It certainly seemed impossible to go back to their old world.

“Let’s go to bed. We can tell the others – talk about it more in the morning.” Hongjoong said finally. Seonghwa could see that the younger man was starting to show some bags under his eyes – maybe it was because he was tired, or maybe it was the stress of remembering that awful event. Either way, they had remembered everything now. They weren’t in a rush – they could take their time to think this all over, right? So, they headed back inside and keept each other close as they tried to get the thoughts out of their minds and drift off to sleep.

-

Meanwhile, there was one more person in the mansion who was still awake. San had been trying to sleep for hours, but his digital clock now read 3:40 A.M. and he still wasn’t even tired, because his mind was so active. He had been thinking about the diagrams from the library. He had even sketched them out in a sketchbook he found in his bedside drawer, to remember the details better.

Of course, like the others, he wasn’t sure about the meaning of any of it. He didn’t know if the diagrams were fictional or not, he didn’t know if his ideas were correct or far from the truth. But, over these last few hours, he had grown to have a few thoughts that he felt made some sense.

He had grown to become fairly certain that the tree was the key to getting out of here, just as they had been guessing earlier. Perhaps, if and after Hongjoong and Seonghwa unlocked their last memories, there would become a clear way to get up the tree. Or maybe it would reveal some way to get up the tree. Either way, when they finally got up there… surely, it would lead to something of importance, if not a direct way out of this place.

And, based on the diagram, if they left, they couldn’t come back.

 _That_ thought was what was bothering San, the one preventing him from sleeping.

He _didn’t_ want to leave. He wanted to stay _here_ , with everyone else. With his new friends. In a place he was safe, fed, clean and happy. He hadn’t experienced those things in life. He had been hated by his family, had seen gruesome things, and had been living in hell for months before coming here. So why would he want to go back to that life?

That time on the run… it had fucked his mental health. He had managed to evade those dangerous people, yes, but at what cost? His physical health? His sanity? He had done so much to get away – some things that any normal person never would have submitted themselves to. He ate raw meat to survive, and often starved for days. He sat in sewage to hide from people. He had purposefully hurt himself in order to make himself unrecognisable to his assassins. He had done more, and worse than that.

But here, he had friends. He had fun times. He had good food. He had a bed, and a shower. He was happy here. Honestly, if he hadn’t been so curious and remembered everything, he might be even happier right now without those memories. But that was in the past – he remembered, and that was painful, but everything else here was practically perfect. The opposite of his life outside this anomaly.

With these thoughts running through his mind, San got out of bed. He put his fluffy slippers on, wiggling his toes inside them for a few seconds. Even before he had gone on the run, when he still had a home, he had never worn nice slippers like this before. _Wow, this place really is perfect_ , he thought.

San left his room, choosing to take a stroll around the house. He figured it might not help with his thoughts, but maybe it would make him more tired, or maybe distract him somehow. He wandered through the hallways, peering at each painting, admiring the woodwork of the doors, observing the view of the night sky from the windows. Eventually, he ended up in the lobby, at the top of the grand staircase.

First, he placed his hands along the railings, gliding his hands along the smooth marble surface. The stairs had carpet rolled over them, and despite all of them using this staircase every day, the carpet still seemed as good as new. Next, he walked to the centre of the staircase and glanced down the stairs, where at the opposite side of the lobby were the big doors to the outside. That was their only way out now. _Well, we still have that window in the library, but that could easily be blocked off…_ San caught himself thinking before getting distracted by what was behind him.

Lastly, San turned around from facing the door to peer at the painting at the top of the stairs. He looked at the strokes of paint showing the texture of moss on the tree trunk. His gaze drifted upwards, looking at each of the branches, and his heart rate sped up as he realised.

All eight branches were completely full now.

Before, there had been two that were still a little sparse. Now, however, there was literally no way for there to be any more flowers growing on this tree. They were all full.

He stared at the painting for a while before remembering to breathe. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his speeding heart as he thought. This had to mean that, somehow, the two eldest men of the group had managed to remember their last moments before waking up here. And _that_ meant they were probably one step closer to climbing that tree, and one step closer to getting off this island, back to the normal universe.

He wasn’t totally sure about a lot of things, but he was completely and utterly certain that he wouldn’t – couldn’t – return back to the normal world.

He had to stop them from climbing that tree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EYYY so i think the next chapter might be the last one (maybe)!!! the last one might be a bit longer than usual but i want to make sure most loose ends are tied up and everything comes to a nice close!!!! i hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as the other chapters so far~
> 
> thank you guys as always for the lovely comments <3 it makes my day. thanks to Majda, taestythot, leetaeyongs, MistOfDystopia, Kai, haechans_squish and luzestelar !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


	12. The End

That morning started pretty much as normal. The men had all stumbled out of bed and went straight to the dining room for their usual breakfast. The only one who seemed to be more awake than the others was San, but in all honesty he wasn’t acting particularly strange at all. He was just more awake than usual. He was chatting, smiling and eating just like everyone else. Of course, there were times during the meal that his eyes glossed over, and he was clearly thinking about something internally, but that was a common occurrence with all of them.

It was during the breakfast that Hongjoong and Seonghwa explained what had happened to them last night – how they had remembered their last moments before waking up here. Everyone’s reactions were different. Some of them were just glad that they all had their memories back now. Others were curious as to whether they could get off the island now that everything was recalled. And others felt discouraged by the story that seemed to certainly show death, with no way of escaping that fate.

San was one of those last people. But, instead of feeling discouraged, he felt hope. Hope that, even if what he had set up during the night didn’t work, they still wouldn’t be able to leave. Even if they all somehow got outside, got to that tree, and somehow managed to climb it, he hoped that there was simply no way to exit this place. He hoped that they would be stuck here forever.

But his hopes were quickly crushed as the conversation continued.

“I think the tree thing will still work.” Wooyoung said to everyone as they were discussing the possibility of being stuck here forever. “That diagram – it’s confusing, and not everything makes sense – but that arrow is clearly coming out of the drawing that represents this place. That means there is a way. Definitely!” He said, his voice full of optimism. Wooyoung clearly didn’t even want to consider the chance that the diagram was a ruse, or the possibility that if they left this place that they would all just be… well, dead.

And the others were slowly starting to agree with the positive man. Even San, who desperately didn’t want to believe it, couldn’t see why that diagram wouldn’t be correct, or why the diagram would be a lie. The diagrams… they just seemed too important to be a lie. And so, he soon sunk back into himself, preparing for the worst – for the confrontation he was surely about to face. The others soon agreed to get up and go to the tree again – and adrenaline ran through San’s veins as he prepared himself for the consequences of what he had done.

They all walked in a group, out of the dining room and towards the front door, San trailing behind them. Hongjoong was in front, acting as the leader as always, and as he placed his hand on the door handle, San’s heartbeat sped up. This was happening.

Hongjoong tried to turn the handle. He jiggled the knob several times, but the door didn’t budge. The others were silent, waiting for Hongjoong to try harder. He obviously wasn’t pushing hard enough, right?

But it wasn’t long before they realised that, in fact, the door was locked.

“Huh? Why is it locked?” Yunho questioned after several of them tried to open the door themselves. No one replied to his question for a while. “Do you think the… _world_ … locked it?” The others frowned at the suggestion.

“But the world hasn’t tried to stop us doing anything before…” Hongjoong said, clearly as confused as everybody else. They were all staring at the door as if it had mutated into a frustrating and confusing math problem.

“Well. We can just use the key to open it again, right?” Jongho suggested, and the others nodded. It was Hongjoong who had been put in charge of keeping the key, and so he began to walk away to get it.

San wondered for a moment – should he tell them that he, himself, did it? That he locked the door, and threw it out of the broken library window, where it splashed into the lake? Should he tell them that he drilled the bookcase back over the window so that there was no way they could exit this place anymore? Or, should he remain silent, and let this play out? _Maybe we could just blame this all on this world…_

But… what about the key? San had stolen that key from Hongjoong’s room during the night (it was lucky the two lovebirds had been staying in Seonghwa’s room for the night, so it was easy for him to snatch). When Hongjoong would come back to tell them all it was gone, would they all start to blame each other? That… wouldn’t do. The whole reason San did this was to keep the pleasant atmosphere, to keep them all together. He could deal with them blaming him (…for a while, anyway), but he couldn’t let them argue with each other over something that was his own fault.

He decided that he needed to admit to what he had done. The sooner he did that, the sooner they could all get back to playing games together and being happy here.

“Wait.” San spoke up before Hongjoong had walked too far away. “I… I did it.” He said, now a little quieter. Still, everyone heard his words. “I locked the door. And I threw the key into the pond.” His head was hanging low, his bangs covering his face from view. He was hiding – not because he was embarrassed to let the others see him upset like this – but because he knew that they all probably had faces of disappointment towards him.

But this was necessary. He would confess and face the consequences now. They would get mad, sure, but soon enough, since they seemingly had an eternity here, they would forgive him, right? They would see that this place was heaven. This place was much better than their old lives. They would forgive him and they could all be happy again… right?

“Why the fuck did you do that?” Mingi spoke up. His voice wasn’t threatening… just baffled. San took a deep breath before answering.

“I can’t let you guys leave this place. We have to stay here.” San admitted. “I… can’t go back there – to the old world. I can’t go back to that life of running, suffering, hurting and hating myself. I- I _can’t_!” San continued, trying to get his point across. “I can’t go back to that old life – here – it’s so much better. It’s the best. I’ve… I’ve never been happy like this before, so – so, you can’t go.” He said, feeling tears well up in his eyes. He tried to swallow the lump in his throat, but he could hear his voice wavering already.

He had hoped that saying these things would lift some of the weight from his shoulders, but it did the opposite. As the words fell out of his mouth, he started to realise how selfish he sounded. He was only thinking about himself – about his own happiness. He wasn’t thinking about what the others wanted. They probably wanted to go back. They wanted different things to him. But still… he couldn’t let them go. He couldn’t go back there.

“Uh, San? Are you okay?” Wooyoung piped up, approaching the emotional man, who flinched at the gesture, expecting a slap or a biting remark.

“No! I’m not okay, not there! You can’t leave here. You can’t climb that tree!” He shouted at them all, stepping back from the group. A tear fell from his eye, but he wasn’t sure what emotion he was feeling, exactly. Maybe sadness. Maybe shame. Maybe anger. Maybe everything, or something entirely different.

“Okay. Okay, San.” Hongjoong spoke, his voice more stable and less confused than the others. The room was silent for a while, as everyone tried to understand what was going on in San’s mind.

“Can you maybe… explain how you feel?” Seonghwa eventually spoke, too. San looked up, into his eyes, and instead of seeing disappointment in them, he found worry. The oldest man was clearly worried for San, and that just made San even more upset.

Everyone stood watching him as he explained how he felt. How this place was amazing, and the real world was hell. How the others had helped him feel happiness again, and his fears of going back to that terrible life if they returned. He explained the abuse he had faced and the trauma of running. He told them that if he went back, he would only be hunted down again, and when that inevitably happened, the chance of coming back to a perfect world like this again was surely next to zero.

The others listened intently. They were holding on to every word, trying to understand San’s point of view. And… some of them did. Some of them even agreed.

“I’m… here with Hongjoong. By some miracle, Hongjoong and I ended up together in this weird afterlife place. But… if, hypothetically, we can return back to that old world, will this still happen when we die again? After all… This place is called an ‘anomaly’. That means it’s not normal, right? And there’s no arrow pointing back into the world… So, we probably won’t be able to return here.” Seonghwa said his thoughts aloud after San had finished talking.

“But… I’m not done with life yet.” Jongho spoke up in reply. “Maybe that’s not the case for you, but I have more things I need to do. Things I can’t do here.” Jongho said quite firmly, disagreeing with both San and Seonghwa, but starting to understand their points of view nonetheless.

“I agree. I… want to go back. I need to.” Wooyung joined in the discussion. One by one, they were all starting to sit down in a circle on the cold marble floor. “I… need help. Even here, you know, I still have… problems. Problems that I need to fix, and I can’t on my own. But none of you are therapists, and none of you can prescribe me medications. I need help. I need to go back to the real world. I have to get better, otherwise I’ll be stuck here, and I might get worse. And… that’s no way to live.” Wooyoung didn’t look anyone in the eye as he said this. He was thinking of the times, even over the last few days, that he had caught himself thinking ridiculous thoughts about his self-worth. But catching it would only do so much. He didn’t know how to stop. He didn’t know how to truly love himself, how to stop thinking so negatively. Getting help in that world, to live for another 60 years in happiness, was far better than living an eternity here in half-misery.

“But… for some of us, we can do more here than in the real world.” Mingi replied. “I can walk here. I can do things, I can have energy and be a normal, functional person for once. But if I go back there? I’m destined to more time in misery and pain. I’ll probably live for what, another few years maximum? And all that time I will be bedridden, unable to do a thing. And even after all that – like Seonghwa said, I won’t be able to come back here. For all I know, when I die, that’s it! Or – by some miracle – I am part of another ‘anomaly’. What’s to say that ‘anomaly’ wouldn’t be terrible, and worse than the real world?” He shuddered at the thought. “But in this place – it’s like… a second chance. Another chance to live my fucking life. Even if it’s not the same as living a life back in that world, it’s still better here than there.” Mingi ranted. It was surprising to see these complex emotions from the man, but it felt completely natural. Given what they knew about Mingi, of course he wouldn’t really want to leave this world.

San watched as they all debated. He didn’t know what to say – he hadn’t expected any of them to be so understanding. He had expected them all to shout at him, ignore him for months, maybe even hurt him. But here they were, discussing what he wanted. Sure, not all of them agreed with him. But the fact that some of them had taken his side, and they were all relatively calmly discussing the matter… it meant everything to him. It only proved to him further that he didn’t want to leave.

The debate lasted for hours. Each of them argued their reasons why they wanted to stay or go – and ultimately, they were torn in the middle. San, Hongjoong, Seonghwa and Mingi were firmly arguing that they wanted to stay here. Jongho, Yunho, Wooyoung and Yeosang were arguing the opposite. Yunho said that he needed to return for the rest of his family, and Yeosang didn’t say much, but seemed pretty sure that he wanted to return nonetheless. They had sat down to talk in the morning, and by the time they had exhausted all possible paths of conversation, it was late afternoon.

They didn’t – couldn’t – go outside. Not right now, anyway. San had thrown the key out into the pond, after all. They… could figure everything out another day, maybe tomorrow, when their brains had processed everything and had a chance to rest. Somehow, thinking all day was more tiring than trying to climb a tree for hours on end.

They all grabbed their dinner from the dining room and brought the food back to their own rooms. They had all silently agreed that now was not the time for friendly dinner banter, and that it would be best to give each other some space to themselves. So, many of them returned to their rooms, alone.

One group did form, however. After eating, Seonghwa and Hongjoong had decided together to go and visit San, who was in his room. They both knocked on the door lightly and the youngest of the three of them soon opened the door and greeted them, clearly surprised to see the two of them.

“Uh, hi?” San said, letting them in straight away. He didn’t feel nervous around Seonghwa any more – if anything, today’s conversation helped San to trust the man deeply. None of them had been in San’s room yet – but they could now see that, relative to their own rooms, it was rather plain. It was clean, quite spacious, and had a few bits and bobs on the walls as decoration. The bed looked comfy, but was simple in white fabrics. The only objects of real interest were a pile of soft toys on top of the bed. Hongjoong started to wonder why the man had such a basic room compared to the others, who all had extravagant furniture and clear, interesting aesthetics. However, he stopped himself from commenting, understanding that to San this was probably the perfect room. He probably had never slept in a clean, spacious room like this before. Even if he had, the months before waking up here were spent by him on the streets. In comparison to that, this room was indeed heavenly. And, of course, the plushies were pretty cute.

“We’re all a bit emotionally exhausted after today… But we wanted to chat about a few things.” Hongjoong said as he sat down at the foot of San’s bed. Seonghwa chose to sit on the only chair in the room – a plain wooden chair tucked underneath a small desk. San walked to his bedside table, which had a kettle on it, and started to boil the water. He listened to the others as he made all three of them cups of green tea in plain white teacups.

“Okay… What’s up?” He asked, curious. Honestly, he knew he had a lot of heavy things to think about, but he felt pretty upbeat after the day went much better than planned.

“We want to make some plans with you.” Seonghwa said. “Let’s just say… maybe, because of something outside our control, or because we all eventually agree, _maybe_ we all get out of here.” He started, and San felt his body become slightly more tense at the thought. “That… obviously, would suck. It wold more than suck – it would be terrible. And not just for you – it isn’t really what we truly want, either.” Seonghwa continued to speak, and Hongjoong nodded in agreement.

“But I can’t say that I feel happy forcing the others to stay with us, either.” Hongjoong added, and paused before continuing. “But anyway, if that happens, we want to make some plans with you. Plans to maybe, just maybe, meet up. And if we _can_ do that, all three of us can be together. We will be on the run, sure, but we can all be together. You will have us. We can be there for you, and we can take care of each other.”

San had poured the tea and was sat on his bed as he waited for it to seep. As he sat, he thought deeply at Hongjoong and Seonghwa’s suggestion. It sounded… possible. If, by some miracle, when they returned, the three of them were actually alive, then this would be a good solution. Not perfect – after all, nothing would be as perfect as this place in San’s eyes – but still, it would be much better than living his runaway life alone, and he wouldn’t have the guilt of forcing the others to stay where they didn’t want to be.

He imagined camping with the two older men on mountainous forests across Korea. Maybe, if they made it south to Busan, they could even flee on a boat to Japan (or some other country), where they would be less in danger. Yes, they would still need to be careful, but maybe… they could start to live less miserable lives. And he would even have two friends with him, who understood him, who cared for him.

It sounded rather lovely.

“I… I like that idea.” San admitted finally. The two older men let out a sigh of relief, and the three of them started to make their plans. Of course, there was always the chance that if and when they returned to that world they wouldn’t remember anything… But San hoped. He hoped that, as he had been so lucky to be given this world by whatever cosmic forces may be, he would have just a little more of that luck when returning to the real world. He wasn’t sure if karma was real, but if it was… surely, the universe owed him, right?

They discussed where they would meet. Seonghwa gave him tips on staying alive, keeping out of trouble and how to stay hidden. And, they promised each other. It wasn’t a contract – there were no signatures or blood oaths involved. It wasn’t even guaranteed that it was possible. But somehow, San felt reassured that these new friends would still have his back, no matter what.

Maybe the real world could grant him that one last sliver of luck.

That night, they all had the worst sleep they had experienced since waking up on this island. Jongho tossed and turned in annoyance, wanting with all his fibre to get back to his life. Yunho sat in bed with his family pictures, imagining finally reuniting with his parents, brothers and sisters. Yeosang’s mind raced with thoughts of how they might be able to get out of the mansion, and finally climb that tree. Wooyoung wrestled his invasive thoughts, wishing that he could wake up in his normal life again to get rid of them once and for all. Mingi was plagued with anxiety and dread surrounding the thought of returning to his old life, and yet guilt at the idea of forcing the others to stay here. San prayed for the world to allow him to meet Seonghwa and Hongjoong when he returned to the real world. Hongjoong went over the plans to meet with San, considering every tiny thing that might go wrong, and how he could make sure it didn’t happen. Seonghwa could only stare at his boyfriend until he eventually drifted off, heart hurting as he worried that he would never get the chance to spend an eternity with him again.

The next day, everyone woke up early. They hadn’t arranged it – it was a simple coincidence that they had all woken up as soon as the sun rose, and hadn’t been able to get back to sleep. It was actually questionable whether some of them got any sleep at all – they all had bags under their eyes, and felt light headed as they walked down the stairs to the dining room as they always had.

The air was pretty heavy as they all ate in silence. They weren’t talking, and yet they all knew what was on everyone’s minds – would they all agree to leave this island? It was only after the last plate had been cleared that they started to talk, one by one.

“I… want to apologise.” San spoke first. He felt responsible for this conversation, seeing as he had been the one to start this mess. “I was thoughtless. I didn’t consider everyone’s feelings. I’m so, so sorry.” He truly felt upset at his actions, and he clenched his fists under the table to try and keep a stable voice.

“You… felt like it was your only option. Even though I don’t agree… I understand.” Wooyoung patted San’s shoulder in reassurance.

“That’s right. You could say that you weren’t considering our feelings, but…. the same could be said about us.” Yunho joined in the conversation. “We would suffer if we stay here, but you guys would suffer equally, if not much more, if we go back.” Everyone considered Yunho’s explanation and nodded.

“But, you know, we aren’t even really _supposed_ to be here.” Hongjoong added. “This… ‘anomaly’, isn’t normal. We are lucky. We could stay here and experience that luck forever... But maybe, just maybe, this anomaly exists… to give us another chance at life. Not another chance at life here, but another chance to live our real lives, back in the normal world. After all, it seems that there is a way out. Why would this place have an exit if it wasn’t supposed to be used eventually?” Hongjoong said. The others thought, and nodded again. He noticed that Mingi in particular seemed to be nodding so hard that he only half believed it himself, and was simply trying to force himself to believe it. The others understood that. And yet, he was trying to truly believe it. Maybe there was still hope left for him in that life.

“I had a thought last night.” Jongho also spoke up after another short silence. “Do you guys think there might be a way that only some of us can leave, and the others can stay?”

The others thought deeply. There was nothing that was clearly against that possibility. But, at the same time, they had no idea that it was possible, either. They thought about this for a while, trying to think over the various diagrams, to think if there were any more clues… but they couldn’t come to a conclusion.

“I-uh,” Mingi eventually interjected, remembering something. “Do you guys remember that password to open the desks?” He asked the others, who looked at him cluelessly. “It was… 8-M-1. I got it from a video game that I played. It comes from the phrase ‘8 makes 1’. I’m not sure if I’m right, but… I don’t think we can selectively choose who leaves here. I think… it has to be together. 8 of us, all together.” He explained, the others absorbing the information like sponges. “I’m… not sure if that makes sense.”

“I agree.” Yeosang spoke up. “Again, it’s not certain, but even if we could make it so that only some of us left, I don’t think it would be safe.” He said, swallowing before continuing. “The world was made using all eight of us. If we take away a few of them… we don’t know what would happen.” He explained his theory. He had no idea if it was correct or not, but given the unpredictability of this world, he couldn’t be sure that the ones remaining here wouldn’t ripped to shreds after half the world’s essence left.

There was silence again as everyone considered all of this. They didn’t know anything for sure. Hell, they weren’t even certain that they could actually leave this place. But… something felt fundamentally important here. They all knew the significance of this conversation. Everyone, even San and Mingi, were starting to come around to the idea of going back. It wasn’t their ideal… but they were starting to agree that it was the best option for the whole group.

“I think… we’ve all decided now, right?” Seonghwa asked after a little more discussion. Everyone slowly nodded in return.

-

It wasn’t difficult to get out of the house. After all, they had done it before. The only difference this time was that, instead of moving the book case, they cut it down with an axe from the basement (the idea was given by Mingi, who said he wanted ‘one last chance at using a normal person’s strength’). After that, fashioning a rope out of bedding and getting down to the grassy ground was a relatively familiar process.

They all headed to the tree. They made some small talk on the way there, but everyone was nervous and jittery. They were all wondering - Was this it? Would they finally leave this place?

As they approached the colossal object, the smell of the blossoms on the tree was overwhelming, something like a funeral, but instead of mourning, they were all hopeful. Reaching the trunk, they bent their necks to peer towards the top of the tree, which now seemed to reach towards the sky. They all made a silent agreement to start.

One by one, they tried climbing the tree. And one by one, they failed. They did manage to make it a little further up than they had before, and yet, they had barely gotten higher than three metres.

“Well.. that’s fucking useless then.” Mingi commented as he landed on his ass for the third time. They had all decided to take a break, and were sitting down in a circle a few metres away from the tree.

“Maybe… there’s still something else we need to do?” Yunho suggested. “Or like, some ritual?” A few of the others gave him incredulous looks.

“Maybe we really do have to make some kind of ladder, like we were talking about all the way at the beginning. Plus, we have an axe and the tools now, after all.” Mingi said.

“But…” Hongjoong peered up at the tree again, “It wouldn’t be very safe, especially since none of us know how to make a stable ladder, you know?” He mentioned this possibility, worried for the safety of everyone. Sure, this may be some alternate dimension afterlife universe, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t be harmed.

“Argh” Wooyoung groaned. “ _Maybe_ we’ve got to make a damn _boat_ and sail across the ocean to some other island with _more_ bloody mysteries.” He groaned at the thought. He really wasn’t up to being a pirate in this fantasy world, dealing with these insane problems and dilemmas. He just wanted to get back to his _real_ life and deal with his _real_ _life_ problems.

As they all chatted away, Jongho had left to take a pee. He had been sitting there all morning, feeling pretty useless to the group. After all, there was no way he could climb the tree. If these guys, who could see all the holes and handles on the tree, couldn’t climb the tree, they he surely didn’t have a chance in hell. However, it was after he was done doing his business that a thought entered his mind. He thought about the diagrams from the book, specifically the last page. Obviously, he hadn’t seen it, but based on descriptions, one thing stood out to him. On the layers of the pyramid, the upper most layers, which were overlaid by the illustration of the tree, were faded. Supposedly, the top most layer was almost transparent.

That stood out to him, in this very moment.

Perhaps… It was precisely his blindness that could help him to climb the tree. The uppermost levels, whatever they represented, couldn’t be seen.

Perhaps the way up wasn’t something they could physically perceive.

Jongho almost called out to the others with his theory – but stopped himself before any sound exited his windpipes. _They won’t let me._ The thought rang in his mind, and he remembered how many things his parents in the real world never let him do because of his blindness. He couldn’t go and play with the other kids in the park. He couldn’t go on hikes up the mountains. Jongho hoped that maybe his new group of friends would let him, but… he couldn’t take that chance.

He wanted to get back to the real world already.

And so, without informing the others, he approached the tree while their attention was in their little circle, and started to climb. He soon understood that his theory was correct - he didn’t need to see. He didn’t even need to feel, really. His hands and legs simply guided him. It was as easy as climbing the stairs – he didn’t even need to think about it. He felt his body getting higher off the ground, and his palms were sweating a little at the thought of the height he must be at. That was, until he heard a shout.

“Jongho!” He heard a loud and deep voice call urgently from below him, followed by what sounded like several sets of feet running. They had finally noticed what he was doing, and had run up to the base of the tree.

“It’s fine!” Jongho shouted back, not sure who had shouted his name so desperately. “Look at this – it’s so easy!” He laughed a little, taking another effortless step upwards. He was imagining that they were all baffled by how he was doing this.

“Stop - You’ll get hurt!” The shouting voice continued. Was that… Yeosang? Shouting? Jongho felt a little shocked at the thought – he was certain the boy must have never shouted a single syllable in his life.

“Yeosang?” He called back down, pausing his climb but still hanging on for dear life.

“Get down! Please- Just come back down.” Yeosang continued, his voice showing clear fear. His voice was shaking a little. “You might fall!”

“No – I won’t.” Jongho shouted back, smiling as he did so. It wasn’t an angry shout – only raising his voice’s volume to allow the sound to reach the other. “That diagram! The one with the transparent layers! You guys could barely see them, right? But I can! I can see them. All metaphorically, of course!” He laughed, not sure if he was making any sense. “My blindness – it’s the key!” He exclaimed as he carried on climbing. He could feel the circumference of the trunk getting thinner, and he knew he had made it a decent way up the tree by now.

“B-but!” Yeosang shouted back, but didn’t continue the sentence. He didn’t need to, because Jongho knew why he was upset.

“Don’t worry – we’ll meet each other again… I know it.” He said confidently.

The others all gazed up, watching the man get smaller as he approached the sky. He was so far up now. He was almost at the top.

Seonghwa grabbed Hongjoong’s hands, and they held on tight. All of them braced themselves for what was to come.

And suddenly, they were all back.

-

Seonghwa’s eyes opened slowly, his head feeling heavy. His eyesight took a few seconds to focus before he realised what was in front of him – a scene that needed dealing with, and quickly.

The man – the one who had been hunting them – was stood a few metres away, bending over to pick something up from the ground. Perhaps it was a knife he had dropped. Seonghwa didn’t have much time to think about it – his instincts kicked in immediately, and he forced himself to stealthily get up from his knocked out position on the dirty floor and attack the man from behind, while the man thought he was safe. A surprise attack.

The man must have thought he was dead already.

The surprise attack was successful. Honestly, Seonghwa wasn’t even sure how he did it, as his mind was running on autopilot. The next coherent thought he had was to make sure the man was dead. Seonghwa unwrapped his belt that was somehow around the man’s blue neck. He took the knife from next to the man’s body - that must have been the one the man was trying to pick up. Luckily, Seonghwa had gotten to him before it could be picked up.

He didn’t even bother to check if the man was already dead before doing the deed – he couldn’t take any chances. If the man were to resurrect, or something ridiculous like that, then his surprise attack would be for nothing. Seonghwa had to make sure. Although, he vaguely wondered as he slashed the motionless body’s neck if resurrection was really that ridiculous. He certainly felt reborn after waking up from that – what was it, a blackout after being punched too hard? Or… had something else happened while he was out for those few seconds?

He didn’t dwell on the thought for long though, because his mind was suddenly filled with thoughts of Hongjoong’s whereabouts. He jumped off the now certainly dead body underneath him and made it to Hongjoong immediately. He checked for a pulse, worrying that the worst had happened – that he would have to continue life without the man. But his worries didn’t last long. There was a pulse.

And only a few seconds after touching his lover’s neck, Hongjoong’s eyes shot open, full of that life that he had fallen in love with.

-

Yeosang awoke in a bright room that smelt clean yet stale. As he opened his eyes, he had to squint as the light hurt his retinas. He groaned quietly as his eyesight adjusted, and he eventually realised he was lying on a bed in a hospital room. His mind was foggy. He couldn’t remember much – it felt like he had just woken up from a deep dream. How did he get here, again?

Yunho, Jongho and Wooyoung all woke up in similarly smelling rooms in hospitals dotted around the city, trying to remember what had happened. And they all, eventually, did. For Yeosang, it was the moment he left hospital, when he put his earphones back in and pressed play on one of Jongho’s songs. For Jongho, it was while he was still recovering in hospital, brainstorming ideas about new songs he could write, that he remembered his experiences with friendship, mystery and hope on that island. For Wooyoung, he remembered everything as soon as his parents suggested therapy to him when he woke up, his arm heavily bandaged up. For Yunho, it was soon after he woke up – as soon as his brothers and sisters visited him in hospital, he remembered, and felt a need to get in contact with that friend he had only played a few games with before.

The others hadn’t woken up in hospitals. San had woken up cold on the sand of a deserted beach near the city. He was completely drenched, having clearly been recently washed up on the shore. He had immediately gone back on the run, completely running on adrenaline, as he had been before – and yet, somehow, things seemed just a little easier now. He didn’t remember much yet, but he pushed forward for a few more days. He felt as if maybe someone had given him tips on surviving… but, that was a silly thought. He hadn’t had a proper conversation with anyone in months… right?

And yet, on top of that, he felt drawn to a certain place. He wasn’t sure why – these last few months, he had gone anywhere that was safe. But now, he found himself purposefully heading towards a particular abandoned warehouse on the other side of the city. It was when he reached this place when he saw those two familiar faces there, waiting for him, and he finally remembered everything.

Mingi was quite the opposite. He woke in his comfortable bed at home, surrounded by medications and machines designed to keep him alive. He had been asleep, and woken up as usual. But this time… it felt different. He didn’t usually dream, due to his medications, but this time he was certain that he had experienced something. He recalled strange images of purple stars and blueish sun rays dashing across the sky. When he closed his eyes again, he saw a marvellous stairway covered in carpets, a huge library with thousands of books, and a strange tree in a fantasy forest.

He was soon in close contact with Yunho, and that was when everything came together. Yet, they didn’t discuss the events very much. Instead of dwelling on the past, or worrying about those friends who they had no realistic way of helping, they tried to appreciate what they had in this moment.

That was the same for them all. Jongho put all his passion into his dreams – even more than he had done before, if that was even possible. Yeosang became his new best friend, and a new muse for his creations. That older man, while still as quiet as ever, found a new confidence in his life, content in the fact that he finally had a friend that he knew didn’t only pretend to like him. Wooyoung pushed his burning questions about fantastical anomalies and life after death to the back of his mind, and instead focused his whole effort into fixing the broken thoughts he had been building over past few years.

Yunho, of course, showered his family in just as much love as he had before going to the island – he took care of them, and had become a stronger person for them all. His new closest friend, Mingi, was submitted to a new experimental treatment for his illness, and while he wasn’t yet sure if he was getting better, the images of the island that stayed engraved in his mind gave him a new purpose. He couldn’t do much right now, but with the little energy he did have – perhaps he could record his experiences, write them down and show them to others. He could share the story of what had happened there – on that island. He could put a mark on the world, even if his time on this Earth was likely even more limited than most.

San, Hongjoong and Seonghwa were still on the run. The difference this time was that they were together. They could rely on each other; they could support one another through their hardships, both physical and emotional. It was hard, and would be for a long, long time. But they kept going forward, one day at a time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUYS THAT'S THE END!!!!! if you made it all this way, please know that i am grateful and i truly hope you enjoyed it and liked the ending!!! i also hope it wasn't too cheesy lmao (i hate sad endings). 
> 
> i seriously had so much fun writing this story, i really put my all into it. please tell me what you think! <3 oh and if there's anything you're still confused about pls just ask and i will try my best to explain!
> 
> also im sure you all know about it already but ATEEZ COMEBACK ON WEDNESDAY WOOOOO!!! (yes the last line is a reference to one of the songs on the new album)
> 
> let's have a final thank you to the last chapter's commenters!! thank you taestythot, leetaeyongs, haechans_squish, majda and luzestelar for your lovely comments as always, ily <3 <3 
> 
> BYE


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